


Jesse (Crutchie) Tuck

by Claycastles



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Tuck Everlasting - Natalie Babbitt
Genre: Boys In Love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, He's literally immortal, I mean what are they gonna do?, Immortals, Jesse is proud he's bisexual, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Stone him?, That's not gonna work out for them...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:22:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claycastles/pseuds/Claycastles
Summary: The year Jesse asked Winnie to drink the water was 1893. So six years later, when Jesse returned and Winnie didn't drink the water... it was 1899.The Newsboy Strike started in 1899.Following his rejection... Jesse finds himself in New York, pretending to be a cripple boy called Crutchie because god damn he is heartbroken as fuck and Jack Kelly looks like the perfect rebound... until it becomes more than a rebound.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did my research guys. Those are the ACTUAL YEARS. This shit was happening ALMOST AT THE SAME TIME.
> 
> WHY ARE WE SLEEPING ON THIS????

“Ay, what’s your name, kid?”

“Ehh, that’s not information I give out lightly.”

“Mine’s Jack. Jack Kelly. Will ya tell me now?”

“I don’t think so, Jackie.”

“Fine. I’ll call ya Crutchie.”

“Crutchie?”

“Yeah, ‘cause of ya crutch. Now let’s find ya somewhere's safe to spend the night.”

Jesse Tuck replayed that interaction over and over again in his mind, staring at the night sky. It almost felt like yesterday, meeting Jack…

It happened right after he went back to Tree Gap. Six years after meeting Winnie in 1893, Jesse returned in 1899 to reunite. Their reunion was cut short, unfortunately. Winnie had decided to live her life, fully, and mortally. She rejected Jesse.

Heartbroken, Jesse left Tree Gap. He ended up in New York, broke and past midnight, with nowhere to stay. He was leaning on a crutch he found discarded in an alley, not for physical support. He was just so mentally and emotionally exhausted. Jesse couldn’t help but pick it up.

He remembered sleeping on the fire escape with him that night. Jesse had been traveling alone for six years, waiting for Winnie. Well, the wait was over, and he was sick of being alone. He lost track of Miles. His parents were hidden away in some woods, living their secluded lives.

That was no life to live, if you asked Jesse. He needed adventure, and sure hawking papes in New York wasn’t the most exciting gig, but it put some money in his pocket. He was saving up, best he could with his minimal salary. 

Being immortal had its perks. He could go weeks without food if he wanted. He could go longer, but even if he couldn’t starve, die, or even be weakened by hunger, he still got hungry. Sometimes he just wanted to eat, okay? 

He had about a dollar and a half saved up. That was plenty enough to buy both him a train ticket out of town, but something kept him in New York. Part of him liked it, sleeping under the stars on the rooftop, right beside Jack… Maybe it was the other newsies.

Jesse enjoyed their company. He was still seventeen at heart, and being around the boys made him feel young again. It was getting harder and harder for Jesse to feel young when he outlived all his friends. Maybe he just needed the company, after Winnie’s rejection. Whatever the case, Jack and the newsies provided the perfect company, and he wasn’t willing to leave them just yet.

Jesse kept his money stashed in an old sock, hoping no one would find it. So far lady luck had smiled on him in that regard.

Jesse glanced across the rooftop. Jack was sound asleep, and the sun was starting to rise. Jesse hauled himself off the floor, grabbing his crutch as he went. He kept it, it helped sell papers, and who would possibly think the cripple boy was immortal? It kept his secret safe, and that’s what mattered.

He let his eyes linger on Jack’s sleeping form a moment, and his heart grew warm with affection. Jack took him in, protected him, took care of him. Jesse owed him a debt greater than he could possibly repay. Jack was such a kind-hearted boy, and it was good to know he was looking out for Jesse.

He considered telling Jack his secret many, many times. He’d been selling papers with Jack for months now, and they had grown close. Jesse trusted him, but he wasn’t sure Jack would keep the secret. He’d made that mistake in the past, getting too close, too comfortable… it never ended well.

With a sigh, Jesse headed for the ladder.

“Ay! Where’ you goin’?” Jack asked, his voice still groggy from sleep. “The mornin’ bell ain’t rung yet. Go back to sleep.”

Jesse felt the attention in his heart grow. He knew this feeling, he felt it for Winnie. Part of him worried Jack would end up a rebound, or another heartbreak, so Jesse suppressed the feeling. He locked it up tight and pretended it didn’t exist.

He didn’t care much for social acceptability. Jesse threw that out the window decades ago. He knew people didn’t like people like Jesse. ‘The devil’s work,’ one woman called him. What else would they call an immortal boy who likes other boys the same way he likes girls?

Their opinions didn’t matter much to Jesse, so who cared? It’s not like they could stone him to death.

“I wanna beat the other fellas to the street.” Jesse replied, finally. He shrugged on his brown vest, trying to keep his eyes off Jack. It wasn’t worth the heartache. “I don’t want anyone should see… I uh, I ain’t been walking’ so good.”  
Jack sat up. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse could see him rolling up his drawings. He left them out last night, when he made the foolish decision to stay up past midnight drawing. He didn’t let Jesse see, of course. He never did. Jesse shoved his hat over his head, and reached for his crutch.

“Oh, quit grippin’.” Jack grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “You know how many fella fake a limp for sympathy, right?” Jesse tried to ignore the guilt that rose into his throat. Yeah, he knew. He was one of them. “That bum leg of your’s is a gold mine.”

Jesse sat down over the ladder, reading to climb down. “Someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own,” He guided his ‘bum leg’ over the edge. “They’ll lock me up in the refuge for good. Hey, be a pal Jack, help me down.”

The ladder must have been slick from the rain, because he immediately slipped and found himself hanging limply off the edge. “Whoa!”

Jack, bless his soul, bolted across the roof to help him. Jesse knew the fall wouldn’t even scratch him, but that didn’t stop the adrenaline rush, or maybe that was just from Jack, clutching his arms and pulling him up, touching him. Jesse hated the way his heart pounded in his chest when Jack touched him.

“Do you wanna bust your other leg too?!” Jack scolded harshly, but Jesse could see the concern in his eyes. In Jack’s mind, he nearly just plummeted to his death. There was that guilty feeling again. Jesse hated that guilty feeling.

“No, I wanna go down.” Jesse responded with a grimace.

He could see the stress on Jack’s face as he paced the rooftop. He got fidgety whenever Jesse’s ‘bum leg’ nearly got him hurt. He really was too kind. “Y-you’ll be down there soon enough!” Jack shouted, gesturing towards the street and running a hand from his hair anxiously.

That guilty feeling wouldn’t subside. He kind of hated scaring Jack.

“Take a moment! Drink in my—, My penthouse… high above the stinkin’ streets of New York.” 

Jack’s heavy accent was not helping Jesse’s little crush. He had to resist rolling his eyes at himself. Jesse really couldn’t resist an accent. “You’re crazy.” Jesse scoffed.

“Oh, what? ‘Cause I like a breath of fresh air?” Jack waved dismissively. “Cause I like seeing’ the sky and the stars?”

Jesse couldn’t help but smile. Jack was just romantic enough to enjoy sleeping below the stars. It was so genuinely Jack Kelly that Jesse kind of loved it. He mentally scolded himself, god, he was so attached to his boy already. Jesse blamed Winnie.

He should have been in Paris or Italy with her, his partner in crime, seeing the sights, going on adventures… It was her fault he was here, falling for some scrappy newsboy. Ultimately, he couldn’t stay angry at her. She was living life as god intended. Jesse would have to find a way to live his, he supposed.

“Yeah… you’re seein’ stars, alright.” Jesse teased.

Jack groaned. “Egh… those streets down there… they sucked the life right outta my old man. Years of rotten jobs… stomped on by bosses…”

Jesse sent him a look of sympathy but didn’t interrupt.

“And when they finally broke ‘em, they tossed him to the curb, just like yesterday’s paper!” Jack exclaimed, then raised his voice to shout at the offending city. “Well they ain’t doin’ that ta me!”

Jesse sighed. “Everyone wants to come here.” He muttered. He did, after Winnie rejected him. The city where dreams are made, they said. This place wasn’t exactly what it said on the tin.

Jack scoffed. “New York’s fine for those who got a big strong door to lock it out.” He laughed bitterly. “I tell ya, Crutchie, there is a whole other way out there!” He gestured out to the skyline, a hopeful look crossing his face. Jesse loved those hopeful looks.

“So you keep your small life in the big city…” Jack trailed off, a dreamy smile resting on his lips. “Give me a big life, in a small town… They say folks is dying to get here. Me? I’m dying to get away.”

“Santa fe?” Jesse asked, limping closer to his friend. Jack had talked about the little westward town before. They way he spoke about it was too familiar to Jesse. It was the same way people talked about New York, and that didn’t run out so great. Still, there was no harm in letting Jack dream. 

“I ain’t never been there, but I can see it clear as day, Crutchie.” Jack breathed out, his voice low, the stars shining in his eyes. Jesse bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something stupid. “If you want, I betcha you could see it too?” Jack offered, gesturing between them almost suggestively.

Jesse’s face went warm and he knew he was blushing. He risked a glance at his pillow, where his sock of money was stashed. He easily had enough to buy two train tickets to Santa fe. He could take Jack there, it was possible… but part of him knew Jack would only be disappointed by what awaited him there.

Jack moved closer to Jesse, a wide, dopey smile on his face. “Close your eyes.” He instructed, and the stupid smile made Jesse want to do whatever Jack asked, so he did. “Come with me.” Jack leaned on Jesse, one arm over his shoulder, pulling him close.

“You’re crazy.” Jesse whispered, but kept his eyes closed.

“Come on, Crutchie. It’s clean, and green, and pretty. The whole place is made outta clay. Why, the minute that we get there…” Jack continued, but Jesse was still stuck on the ‘we.’ “Folks will walk right up and say, ‘welcome home son.’”

Jesse highly doubted that, but damn, Jack was so cute when he was excited. He didn’t have the heart to correct him.

Jesse left Jack’s arm leave his shoulder, so he opened his eyes. Jack was walking backwards from him, grinning like an idiot. “We’ll be plantin’ crops! Splittin’ rails! Tellin’ tales around a campfire!” He got a blissful look on his face, as if describing a delectable dessert. “Oh, except for Sunday, when you lie around all day!”

For a newsie, a day off certainly sounded like a blissful idea. Jesse couldn’t help but laugh.

“In Santa fe, your friends are more like family… and they’s beggin’ you to stay.” Jack leaned on eh raining and stared out at the horizon. Jesse briefly wondered if anyone had ever begging Jack to stay before. Jesse would.

“Ain’t that neat?” Jack asked, sparing Jesse a glance. “They’re living sweet in Santa fe.”

“You got folks there?” Jesse asked, absentmindedly thinking back to his own folks. Last he checked they left the woods to find a new forest to reside in. After Mr. Man in yellow found them, they decided it was for the best. Jesse wasn’t sure where they were now.

“Ain’t got no folks, nowhere.” Jack scoffed. “What, you?”

Jesse limped forward. “I don’t need folks.” He nudged Jack affectionately. “I got friends.”

Jesse swore he saw a small blush on Jack’s cheeks. “Hey, hey!” Jack shouted suddenly, like he did when he got a really good idea. “How’s about you come with me?!” He pleaded. “Huh? No one cares about no bum leg in Santa fe! No you just hop a palomino!” Jack did a stupid little gallop, as if he were riding a horse. “You ridin’ in style!”

Jesse had to admit to himself, it sounded ideal. Living alone with Jack in Santa fe… riding horses, sitting around a campfire, in the dark with no one else around… no one to see what he and Jack might do in the dark. Jesse stopped that train of thought dead in its tracks before it could go further.

He tried to laugh it off. “Oh, yeah! Picture me; ridin’ in style.” 

Jack didn’t take kindly to Jesse dismissing the idea. He pointed at Jesse, almost accusingly. “Hey! I bet a few months of clear air, and you could toss that crutch for good!”

Again, it sounded ideal. He could pretend to recover, toss that stupid crutch, and just live with Jack. God, it was tempting.

“There’s a life that’s worth the living, Crutchie.” Jack spoke in a hushed, pleading voice. “We could work the land, chase the sun… swim the whole Rio Grande, just for fun…”

Jesse, admittedly, got caught up in Jack’s excitement. “Yeah, it’d be nice to run again.” He laughed, self indulgently, until the guilt came back to him. His face fell, and he turned away from Jack. It was all too much.

“Hey.” Jack crossed the roof. “Hey!” He nudged Jesse’s arm, trying to get his attention, but Jesse wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t. “Don'tcha know that we’s a family?”

That was such a Jack thing to say, and it melted Jesse’s heart. God damn it, he was falling so hard. He blamed Winnie.

Jack, unsatisfied with Jesse’s lack of response, leaned on his shoulder, clinging to Jesse. “Would I let ya down? Huh? No way! Just hold on, kid. We’ll reach Santa fe.”

Jesse’s eyes trailed back to his pillow. The guilt weighed on him like an anvil on his chest. God, he was so screwed. Jesse knew in that moment that he had decided. We was buying them train tickets to Santa fe tomorrow morning.

Screw it. Screw life. Screw rejections. Screw guilt. Screw Winnie Foster, and screw New York. Jesse Tuck was getting his happily ever after, and he was getting with with Jack Kelly if it killed him.

Okay, bad analogy, but you get the point!


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine, Davey, and Les enter the picture.

Jack led Jesse through the lodging house, pushing past obnoxious, rough housing newsies, all getting ready for the day at this hellish hour. Outside Jesse watched bitterly as Jack flirted and or harassed some poor girl in a purple dress.

“Mornin’, miss,” Jack greeted slyly. “May I interest you in the latest news?”

“The paper isn’t out yet.” She replied level headedly, then went to walk past Jack.

He blocked her exit. “Oh, I would be delighted to deliver it to you personally.” Jack flashed a charismatic grin.

The gentlemen with the young lady moved as if to defend her, but she stopped him. “I’ve got a headline for you; Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Troubles.”

The surrounding newsies barked their laughs, and Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle. He was relieved she turned Jack down. Quick as a whip, that one, and it quickly cured Jesse’s jealousy. Jack wouldn’t get anywhere with that girl.

“Back to the bench, slugger! You struck out!” Romeo teased, pulling Jack away from the girl. She and her gentlemen friend hurried off, going about their day.

“I’m crushed!” Jack laughed wholeheartedly, following the other newsies towards the square.

“Hey, Crutchie!” Almer approached him, blocking Jesse from following Jack. “What’s your leg say? Gonna rain?”

Jesse sighed. He was quite good at predicting the weather, always has been. Somehow the boys got it in their heads it was because of his leg. Jesse went along with it, mainly to keep his cover. “Uhh…” He made a show of shaking his ‘bum leg.’ He let his eyes go wide, as if coming to a magical conclusion. Honestly, all it took was a glance at the sky. “No rain. Partly cloudy, clear by evening.”

Jesse supposed being one hundred and eight didn’t hurt. He’d had plenty of time traveling the world to figure out how to tell the day’s weather.

“They outta bottle this guy!” Finch exclaimed.

“Yeah, and the limp sells fifty papes a week, all by itself!” Race added, patting Jesse on the back. The guilt returned.

“Ahh… I don’t need the limp to sell papes!” Jesse barked defensively. “I got personality!”

That sent the boys into a long rant about what ridiculous standards they had to meet to sell a single paper. Jesse took the opportunity to sneak away catch up with Jack.

They stopped by the church to grab breakfast. The nuns were out passing coffee, water, and bread to the boys. Jack hooked an arm around Jesse’s shoulders and muscles his way to the front. A nun handed him a piece of bread, and Jack immediately gave it to Jesse without hesitation.

“Thanks.” Jesse muttered as he bit into the stale bread, his cheeks red. Jack always looked out for him, and as much as Jesse liked the attention, it did make him feel guilty. He didn’t need Jack’s help to survive, yet he allowed him to believe that. Jesse hated lying to Jack.

With a sigh, Jesse decided; When he bought those train tickets tomorrow, and surprised Jack, he’s tell him everything. Jack deserved to know the truth, and Jesse trusted him. They’d be alright.

They hurried off to the square, all pressed against the metal gate, peering to see the day’s headline.

“Hey, look! They’re putting up the head line!” Finch exclaimed.

“I hope it’s real bloody, with a nice clear picture!” Specs added.

Awfully wishful thinking, Jesse couldn’t help but think. It was gruesome, but it sold papers easily.

Jesse squinted at the headline. “Oh, god. The trolly strike.” He muttered in disdain. A chorus of groans sounded through the crowd of boys, all equally disappointed by the pathetic headline.

“Not again!” Almer moaned. “Three weeks of the same story.”

“They’re killin’ us with that snoozer!” Finch added disheartedly.

“Alright, back it up!” The Delancey brother approached, shooing them back from the gates as they went to unlock it.

“Oh dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma?!” Almer teased, waving his hand in front of his nose. “I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night!”

Jesse nudged Almer, a grin reaching his face. “Or could it be?”

“The Delancey brothers!” The newsies fell into laughter as the gates open, mocking the older men.

Finch was the first one through the gate, he followed after Oscar, both hands in his pockets. “Hey, Oscar! Word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers?”

“So?” Oscar asked defensively. “It’s honest work.”

“A crack in the head of defenseless workers!” someone shouted from the crowd of boys, Jesse didn’t quite catch who.

“Ay, ain’t your father one of the strikers?” Race asked, stepping into Oscar’s personal space.

“Guess he didn’t take care of me!” Oscar snapped before shoving Race away from him roughly. Race moved to fight back, but one of the newsies held him back.

Before Jesse could react, Morris Delancey grabbed him from behind. “You want some of that too? Ya lousy crip!” He yanked the crutch out from under Jesse’s arm and shoved him to the ground. Jesse may have been indestructible, but he wasn’t exactly strong, so he immediately went tumbling to the ground.

Almer was helping him up almost instantly. Jack ripped the crutch back from Morris. “That is not nice Morris!” Jack shouted, the rage clear on his face. Jesse knew the only reason he wasn’t beating Morris to a pulp was because he’d get himself fired.

“Alright, five to one Jack skunks him!” Race shouted out.

“Yeah!” Agreed the newsies.

Jack stepped forward menacingly, invading Morris’s space. He was still clutching Jesse’s crutch, his knuckles turning white. “One unfortunate day you might find you got a bum gam of your own. How’d you like us pickin’ on you, huh?” He turned to the newsies. “Hey, hey!” He yelled. Jesse knew that face, he had an idea again. “Maybe we should find out!” 

Jack slammed teh crutch down on Morris’s leg as hard as he could, effectively knocking the man down. Then he turned and did the same thing to Oscar. 

“Wait until I get my hands on you!” Oscar growled as he climbed to his feet.

“You gotta catch me first!” Jack grinned wolfishly, shoved Oscar back to the ground, and bolted. The Delancey brothers weren’t far behind him.

Jesse and the other newsies scoffed as they ran off, and headed into the square. They grabbed their bags and started lining up to get their papers. Before the selling window opened, Jack looped back around, the Delancey’s hot on his heels. He skid to a stop in front of Jesse, and like a true gentlemen, handed him back his crutch with a wide, affectionate grin on his face. He broke back into a sprint before the Delancy’s caught up to him.

Jesse stood there for a moment, holding his crutch with a big dopey smile on his face. God, Jack was such a dork. He limped into line, and watched the selling window swing open. The Delanceys must have given up, because Jack joined him mere moments later, panting and out of breath from the chase. He leaned on Jesse for support.

“Papes for the newsies! Line up!” Weasel practically screamed from his window.

“Mornin’! Weasel!” Jack exclaimed with what little breath he had left in his lungs. “Ya’ miss me?”

“The names Wiesel.” Weasel scolded.

“Ain’t that what I said?” Jack asked, turning to Jesse with a sly grin on his face. “I’ll take the usual.” Jack slammed down his money.

“Hundred papes for the wise guy.” Weasel grumbled.

Jesse stood behind Race, who harrassed Weasel about his name again. Jesse didn’t pay them much mind. Instead he dug his money out of his pocket and double checked he had enough.

“How much is it?” A kid behind him asked.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder. A tall, pale kid with brown hair and a big nose was behind him, looking anxious. He was far too clean to be a newsie. He had to be new. He had that new kid smell.

“Two for a penny.” Jesse informed helpfully, sparing a glance at an even younger new kid huddled behind the tall boy.

“Thanks.” The boy pulled the younger boy closer to him. They must have been brothers, they looked alike.

Jesse gave a curt nod and turned back frontward. It was his turn. He stepped up to the selling window and gingerly placed his money on the counter. “Morning Mr. Wiesel.” He greeted, articulating the name politely.

Wiesel laughed, almost fondly. “Fifty papes for Crutchie.” Jesse only paid for forty, but using Mr. Wiesel’s real name everyday without fail had earned him some special treatment. Mr. Wiesel appreciated a polite newsie, and Jesse appreciated the free papers.

Jesse headed off before he had to listen to Weasel harass the new kids. He sat down on the steps beside Jack, who was counting his papers. Alternatively, if called Mr. Wiesel Weasel, you needed to count your papers to make sure you got what you paid for.

“Did he give ya’ all your papes?” Jack asked, nudging Jesse’s arm. He always felt the need to ask, always looking out for Jesse.

He nodded. “Yeah, I got my papes, you?”

Jack shrugged and shoved his papers into his bag. Jesse followed suit. “Yeah, this time. Gotta make sure we got all our papes if we’re gettin’ to Santa fe.” Jack flashed Jesse a grin, causing his heart to melt again.

“I’m sorry! Excuse me? I paid for twenty but you only gave me nineteen?” That caught their attention. Jack’s head snapped up, and Jesse followed. The tall, clean new kid was hugging his papers to his chest, confronting Wiesel with that same anxious look on his face.

“You seen how nice I was to this new kid?” Wiesel grumbled. 

Jack was out of his seat and across the square before Jesse could blink, always one to stand up for the little guy. Jesse stood and limped after his friend. Jack yanked the stack of papers from the new kid’s hands, ignoring his protests.

“And what do I get for my civility?!” Wiesel continued his offended rant. “Ungrounded accusations!”

“I just want what I paid for.” The new kid protested.

“He said beat it!” Morris barked.

“Whoa! New kid’s right, Weasel. You gave him nineteen!” Jack interrupted harshly. “Hey, I’m sure it’s and honest mistake, on account of Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on.” Oscar lunged at Jack, but Wiesel stopped him. The boys laughed loudly.

Wiesel shoved another paper at the new kid. Jack handed him back the rest of his papers with a beaming smile. Jesse thought maybe he should be jealous, but he wasn’t. Jack looked out for his newsies, all of them. He knew that. This new kid certainly wasn’t any kind of threat.

“Hey! Give the new kid fifty more papes!” Jack ordered, slamming a nickel down on the counter.

Okay now Jesse was jealous. Jack getting him more papers meant Jack wanted to sell with the new kid. Jesse usually sold with Jack, and he didn’t exactly like the idea of his replacement.

“I don’t want more papes.” The new kid tried to deny Jack. Jesse felt a bit of relief hit him, but knew it wouldn’t last.

“What kid of newsie don’t want more papes?” Jack scoffed, baffled by the new kid’s denial.

“I’m no charity case. I don’t even know you.” The kid shoved his papers into his bag, looking all fidgety. God this kid was like the personification of an anxiety disorder.

“His name’s Jack!” The little brother exclaimed. Obviously he’d been talking to the other newsies. 

Jesse scoffed and limped towards the tall kid. “This here’s the famous Jack Kelly! He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Made all the papes.” The kid didn’t look impressed.

“How old are you?” Jack asked the little brother, crossing his arms.

“I’m ten!” The kid said loud and proudly. “Almost.”

Jack grinned at the kid’s enthusiasm. “Well, if anybody asks, you’re seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we’re gonna be selling partners—,”

“Who said we want a partner?” The tall kid interrupted.

“Uh, selling with Jack is the opportunity of the lifetime.” Jesse explained. Part of him was hoping he could at least tag along on their selling route, but deep down he knew four newsies selling in one spot wouldn’t work. “You learn from him, you learn from the best.”

“If he’s the best, what’s he need with me?” The tall kid asked. He was quick as a whip, but Jack was quicker. 

“‘Cause you got a little brother, and I don’t.” Jesse chewed the inside of his cheek. Apparently in Jack’s book, little brother beat cripple. Damn it. “With that push we could easy sell a thousand papes a week. Hey, look sad kid.”

The boy gave an overdramatic pout, and Jack gave a deep, hearty laugh. “We’re gonna make millions.”

Jesse had to admit, the kid had natural talent. Jack probably didn’t need him anymore. Jesse shifted uncomfortably.

“This is my brother David. I’m Les!” The kid, Les, introduced.

“Hey, nice to meet you Davey.” Jack grinned. Jesse’s shoulders slumped. Nicknames. Great. He was officially super jealous. “My two bits come off the top, we split everything else seventy-thirty.”

Okay Jesse was a little less jealous then. Jack split everything with him fifty-fifty. It brought s sly grin to Jesse’s face.

“Fifty-fifty! You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little old kid?” Les protested.

Jack faltered, surprised by the fire in Les’s voice, but ultimately impressed. Jses scanned Jack’s face for any insight on his thoughts, but found nothing. “Sixty-forty, and that is my final offer.” Jack stated firmly.

Les glanced back at his brother for approval. David shrugged. “Deal!” Les agreed. Jack immediately spit in his hand and offered a handshake. Les copied the action.

“That’s disgusting.” Davey interjected.

“That’s just business.” Jack corrected. “Newsies! Hit the streets! The sun is up! The headline stinks, and this kid ain’t getting any younger!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep writers alive; remember that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST

Jesse didn’t end up selling with Jack, David, and Les. Three newsies selling in one spot was pushing it, four was overkill. Jesse chewed his bottom lip and tried his hardest not to be jealous as Jack left with his new selling partners.

Racetrack slung an arm over Jesse’s shoulder and gave him a comforting pat. “It’s aight, Crutchie! Yous can sell with me today!”

Jesse scoffed. He knew this would happen. Race was always bugging him about selling together, being a fake cripple boy had perks. A cripple was almost as good as a sick, orphaned seven year old with a cute chubby face.

“Aight, Race. I’ll sell with ya.” Jesse adjusted his cap. “Where do you wanna hit first?”

Race dragged him all over the city, and they ran out of papers before noon. They sat under a large copper statue, dividing up the money. They split it sixty-forty. Jesse always got a rotten deal when selling with anyone besides Jack, but he didn’t mind much. Race actually needed to eat to live, so Jesse didn’t fight for equal pay.

“Ay, Crutchie?” Race begun as he counted his money.

“Yeah?” Jesse quirked an eyebrow at him, shifting through his own coins. By his estimate, he made about forty cents, but minus the twenty five he spent on his papers, he really only made fifteen cents.

“I’s got a question and I dont wants you gettin’ offended if I asks it.” Race sounded serious now.

Jesse glanced up from his money and met Race’s gaze. Did he know Jesse’s secret? It didn’t seem likely, but the mere chance of it put him on edge. “I won’t get offended.”

Race leaned in real close, so only Jesse could hear. He could smell Race’s morning cigar. “Me and Spot Conlon, down in Brooklyn, we’s got a bet.”

“About?” Jesse asked, leaning back to put a little distance between himself and Race. 

“About you’s.” Race shrugged, leaning closer and undoing Jesse’s progress. “Stop leaning back, I don’t want anybody should hear.” He whispered.

Jesse held still, and narrowed his eyes at Race. “What’s the bet?”

“Well, see…” Race started, looking a bit uncomfortable with it. “I’s bet Spot you a queer.”

Jesse couldn’t help the laugh that left his lips. “Ha! That’s what this is about?”

Race startled at his reaction, then slammed a hand over Jesse’s mouth to silence him. “Crutchie, you’s my friend.” He said firmly, jabbing Jesse in the chest with a finger. “And I cares about what happens to ya, and I want ya to know that I ain’t no snitch.”

Jesse deeply considered licking Race’s hand to get him to remove it from his mouth, but somehow he didn’t think that would work. Race was a disgusting teenage boy with no cleanliness standards. Instead, Jesse furrowed his eyebrows at Race. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation right now.

“Either way, you’s secret is safe with me, Crutchie. I ain’t no snitch, but I gotta know cause I got a whole dollar riding on this.” Race slowly removed his hand.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Race, I’m a queer. I ain’t ashamed of it either.”

Race stared at him with wide, round eyes. “Why ain’t you hiding it? Ain’t you got no self presentation?”

Jesse blinked at him. “Don’tcha mean self preservation?”

“Ain’t that what I said?”

“No, that ain’t what you said.” Jesse shook his head. “And I don’t care if people know, Race. It ain’t like they can hurt me.”

“What do ya mean?” Race asked, looking confused.

Jesse leaned in real close, so only Race could hear. “Well, ya see, Race…” He cleared his throat and switched off his fake New York accent. Suddenly he was back to his New Hampshire woodland self. “My real name is Jesse Tuck, and I’m from New Hampshire. I’m one hundred and eight years old, but I look seventeen because my family found the fountain of youth. Now we’re all immortal, even our cat. I can’t die, even if y’all try stoning me. They tried once before Ohio. It didn’t work.”

Race blinked at him, the broke out laughing. He shoved Jesse away. “You’re crazy! Stop messin’ around.” Race scoffed, stood up, and walked off.

Jesse clambered to his feet and followed him. He couldn’t help but chuckle, switching back to his good old New York accent. “Really am a queer though, that ain’t changin’.”

Race hooked an arm around his shoulders and laughed good heartedly. “Yeah… I don’t believe a word out your mouth anymore, Crutchie.”

“That’s fair.”

“Ay! Crutchie!” Jack came running up behind them, still hanging onto a stack of papers. Jack always bought way more than Jesse, so he took longer to sell them. He shooed Race’s arm off Jesse’s shoulder, then replaced it with his own, pulling Jesse closer under the weight of his arm.

“Hey, Jackie.” Jesse greeted, shoving his fitsful of coins into his pockets. Race raised an eye at the nickname, probably seeing it in a new light now that he knew Jesse liked boys.

“Ay, yeah, sorry for ditchin’ you for Davey eilaier. I just wanted ta stop by and make sure you wasn’t having any trouble? Your leg achin’?” Jack glanced down at Jesse’s ‘bum leg.’ 

“Oh, I’m fine, Jackie. Got sell your papes.” Jesse waved him off, his face warm from embarrassment.

“Aight, just checkin’. See ya back on the rooftop, Crutchie!” Jack ruffled Jesse’s hair then ran off back the way he came.

Race cleared his throat and swung his arm back over Jesse’s shoulder. “Do ‘ya like Jack?”

Jesse’s face grew hot. “Uhh… Gosh, um…”

“That’s adorable, Crutchie.” Race barked a laugh, then grinned mischievously. “Look, if it makes ya feel any better… I got a bet going on Jack too, and I bet two dollars on him.”

“Geez, Race, no wonder you’re so broke…”

Jesse and Race went their separate ways. Jesse found himself on the rooftop, waiting for Jack. He fidgeted with his sock of coins. It was getting heavier. Jesse reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the money he made today, then untied the knot keeping the sock closed. He dumped in his money, then retied the knot.

Tomorrow he would buy two tickets out of New York, and finally get a happy ending. Him and Jack and the open road to Santa fe, it sounded like a dream, or better yet; and adventure.

He wanted to take Jack everywhere. The eiffel tower, the pyramids, the great wall of China… everywhere and more. Jesse wanted to take Jack everywhere he could see the sky and the stars, just how he liked it.

The wind picked up, and across the roof, Jesse saw one of Jack’s drawings blow out from under his pillow. Jesse lunged forward and grabbed it by the corner before it could blow off the rooftop. He just barely saved it.

Jesse went to put it back under the pillow, but then hesitated. Jack never let him see the drawings. The temptation became too much, and Jesse hesitantly unfolded the newspaper. Whenever a newsie couldn’t sell all their papers, they gave the extra to Jack so he could draw on them. Paper was too expensive.

Gracing the page, in dark charcoal, was Jesse’s face. He was turned at a profile, a wide smile on his face, and a bright look in his eyes. His hair was ruffled, almost like bedhead. Jesse immediately lit up red. He shouldn’t be snooping through Jack things.

Jesse carefully folded the page, then placed it under Jack’s pillow. As far as anyone was concerned, this never happened.

Behind him, Jesse heard the ladder groan under someone’s weight, meaning Jack had returned. Jesse sat down beside his pillow and watched the top of the ladder. Jack’s mop of brown hair poked over the top, then Jack climbed up. “Ay, Crutchie.” Jack greeted. His breath was labored, as if he’d been running.

Jesse glanced down to his hands. Jack’s fingertip were covered in charcoal. He’d been drawing again. Jesse briefly wondered who he had drawn. Was it Jesse? Did Jack draw him often? What other drawings were under that pillow?

Jesse forced himself to end that train of thought, and shot Jack a grin. “Welcome back. You’s okay? You look winded.”

Jack groaned and sat down beside Jesse, their knees touching. He took off his cap and let it fall into his lap. “Snider showed up and chased us off. We ended up in the theater with Medda.”

“No one got caught?” Jesse asked, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder, concerned.

“Nah. Medda hid us good.” Jack assured him, shaking his head. “Saw that girl there. The one from this morning?” Jack reminded.

Jesse remembered her. She rejected Jack’s offer of a paper. “Yeah, what was she doin’ there?”

“She’s a reporter apparently… reviewin’ the show.” Jack scoffed. “Sharp tongue, that one.”

“Kind of like someone else I know.” Jesse laughed and nudged Jack teasingly.

Jesse could have swore a blush graced Jack’s cheek. Jack ducked his head in embarrassment and scratched the back of his neck. “Say, Crutchie…” He began, meeting Jesse’s eyes with a earnest look. “I ain’t got no use for moonlight, or… sappy poetry.”

Jesse furrowed his eyes at Jack, but didn’t interrupt. Jack turned to face him fully, looking Jesse dead in the eyes. “Love at first sights for suckers, at least, that’s what I thought.”

Jesse’s heart was pounding. His face felt warm. “What do you think now?”

Jack considered for a moment, then sighed. “Look, girls are nice, once or twice, until I find someone new, but—,” Jack stopped himself abruptly.

Jesse pressed on, subconsciously leaning closer. He needed to know. “But what, Jackie?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Jack scanned his face, looking for something, but Jesse couldn’t tell what. He lowered his voice to match Jesse’s tone. “But I ain’t ever planned on knowing…” He hesitated. Jesse could have sworn to god Jack glanced at his lips. Did he imagine it? “Her.” Jack finally said, his voice sounded forced, and his smile was tight and uncomfortable.

Jesse froze. He definitely read this situation wrong, and now Jack was uncomfortable. Jesse pulled away and attempted to back peddle. “Oh, uh, that’s great Jack.” He could feel his heart breaking. It was already so fragile after Winnie. 

Jack kept talking. “Yeah, I uh… we talked and she seems pretty nice.” He gestured to his hands, covered in charcoal. “I even drew her on my last paper.”

Jesse wasn’t sure he could take this. Jack drew her? On a paper he could still sell? Jack must really like her. Jesse needed to remove himself from the situation. He felt ill. “Um… I need to pee. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Crutchie, are you alright?” Jack asked as Jesse practically ran to the ladder.

Jesse didn’t answer, instead, he climbed down the ladder in silence. He didn’t trust his voice to remain steady. If he spoke he’d cry, he knew that for a fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.
> 
> Remember; a comment a day keeps the writer's block away!
> 
> I mean the more you comment the more I write. Plz comment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the strike starts

“Aw man, those fire sirens kept me awake all night.” Race whined. It was ass a clock in the morning, and the boys were once again waiting to get their papers.

Jesse didn’t go back to the roof last night. As an immortal he can easily go one night without sleep, so he just paced the city until the morning bell rang. Jack hadn’t arrived yet, so Jesse thought maybe he could avoid the unpleasant conversation to come, for just a bit longer.

“Sirens is like lullabies to me.” Finch interjected. “The louder they wail, the better the headline. The better the headline, the better I eat, and the better I eat—,”

“The further away from you, I sleep.” Race interrupted, pointing at Finch accusingly. Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle as Finch threw a pebble at Race off the ground.

“Morning, everybody! Sorry we're late!” Davey shouted, herding Les into the square. “We had to help our mom with something.”

“Oh, they got a mother?” Race scoffed. “I was gonna get me one.”

“What’d you do with the one you had?” Romeo asked, narrowing his eyes at Race suspiciously.

“He traded her for a box of cigars.” Finch barked a laugh.

“Eh, they was Coronas!” Race defended, as if that explained everything.

“We have a father too.” Les added. That’s when Jesse tuned out. He didn’t really care to hear more about David and Les’s perfect little family. Jesse had plenty of family! He just didn’t know where they were.

Part of Jesse wanted to at least track down his mother. Surely she was with his father, and they probably had an idea what Miles was up to. Jesse chuckled at him. He really managed to lose his whole family in the short span on six years. Damn. He knew he was disorganized, but this had to be a new record or something.

Jesse turned back in when he heard Romeo mention headlines. 

“Here it comes now!” Les pointed towards the blackboard, and every newies’s eyes followed.

“New newsie price?!” Almer exclaimed. “Sixty cents per hundred?!”

Jesse felt his blood grow cold. A new price? That couldn’t be good. Jesse knew he’d be fine. He could skip meals and go days without food, but the others were screwed.

Jesse glanced around at the boys. He’d seen this happen before. He hated these situations, where he knew he’d be fine but everyone else was in danger. Those were the days he hated being immortal the most. It made him feel selfish.

The boys all ran to see form themselves. Jesse pushed himself up from the stack of papers he was sitting on, leaning heavily on his crutch. He limped towards the other boys. Jesse knew the other boys were angry, shouting out their grievances.

He joined them to keep up his cover. “I’ll be sleeping on the street!” Jesse yelled out, but quickly realized he should have said something else.

“You already sleep on the street.” Finch gave Jesse a quizzical look.

He rushed to explain himself. “...In the worst neighborhood.”

Finch scoffed and crossed his arms. “You’re right.”

“Alright, what are ya all waitin’ around here for?” Jack came barreling up, heading straight for Jesse.

Jesse’s stomach dropped, knowing exactly what Jack wanted to talk to him about. Hoping to avoid a conversation about last night, Jesse pointed to the headline. “Hey, Jack, get a load of this.”

“Like Pulitzer doesn’t make enough already!” Romeo agreed.

Before Jack could respond, Mr. Wiesel shouted out. “Papes for the newsies! Line up!”

Jack gave an uncomfortable smile, laughed, and headed to the counter. “Hey relax, it’s gotta be a gag.” 

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he hated the situation, he was glad Jack was distracted.

“Hey, good joke, Weasel, you really had the fellas going!” Jack slammed down his money. “I’ll take a hundred, be on my way.”

Wiesel laughed. “Haha, hundred will cost you sixty.”

A chorus of outraged cries rang through the line of boys. Jack shook his head. “I ain’t payin’ no sixty.”

“Well then make way for someone who will.” Wiesel grinned smugly.  
Jack snatched his money off the counter. “You bet, me and the fella will take a hike over to the Journal.” He began to walk off, but Specs stopped him.

“I’ll save you the walk, they upped their price too.” Spec jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, scowling.

Jack turned to face Jesse. He looked trapped, as seeing his options die before his eyes. “Then—, Then we’ll take our business to the Sun!” Jack shouted.

“Same all around town! New day, new price!” Wiesel smirked, awfully proud of himself.

“Hey! Hey!” Jack pointed accusingly ay Wiesel and arched back to the counter. “Why the jack-up?!”

Jesse tuned it out again. He sat back down on a stack of papers and thought to himself. In total, he had about two dollars saved up. He could go to the train station right now and buy two tickets out of town, sure, but what would happen to the other newsies? He couldn’t exactly leave them to starve.

God, his plans were in the toilet now. He couldn’t just leave, besides, he knew Jack wouldn’t. There no way in hell he’d leave the boys to fend for themselves. Jesse supposed he could use the money to keep the boys fed for a while.

Suddenly Jack was beside him, calling the boys over. “Come here, fellas! Get over here, come on!”

The boys crowded around, all shouting out complaints and fretting. Jesse sighed, fully knowing his money would now be spent on keeping the boys fed. Damn it.

“Ain’t we got no rights?!” Finch cried out.

“We got the right to starve! Let’s just get our papes and hit the street while we still can!” Jesse argued.

“Nobody’s paying no new nothing!” Jack shouted dismissively.

“You got an idea?” Almer asked accusingly.

“Would you keep your shirt on, let me think this through!” Jack snapped back.

The crowd erupted into chaos, but Les screamed over them. “Stop crowding him!” He pushed Almer back. “Let the man work it out!” He screamed as he pushed Jesse, who had to hop backwards to keep from falling. Specs grabbed him from behind to keep him upright.

With sufficient space to think, Jack sat silent for a long moment, the gears turning in his head. 

“...Hey, Jack, you still thinking?” Les asked quietly.

“Sure, he is.” Race teased. “Can’t you smell smoke?” The boys groaned in response. Jesse rolled his eyes.

“Hey, hey!” Jack shouted, recapturing their attention. “Come here.” The boys gathered back around, and Jesse rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Race quirked an eyebrow at Jesse, but said nothing. 

“Alright, here’s the deal.” Jack started. “If we don’t sell papes, nobody sells papes. Nobody gets to that window—,” He pointed accusingly at Wiesel. “Until they put the price back where it belongs.”

“What, you mean like a strike?” Davey interjected, finally joining the conversation again.

Jack shot out of his seat. “Well, hey, you heard Davey! We’re on strike!”

“Hold on! I didn’t say that!” Davey protested.

Jack stood atop the wagon, and pointed out to the street. “We shut down this place just like them workers did the trolleys!”

“And the cops will bust our heads!” Finch interjected. Jesse had to admit, he had a point. Once again, Jesse would be fine, police batons were harmless to him, but the others were so screwed. “Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones!”

“The cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids. Right, Davey?” Jack asked, waving dismissively at Finch.

“Leave me outta this!” Davey stepped back. “I’m just here tryna feed my family.” He grabbed Les’s hand and dragged him away, pushing past Jesse.

Jack stepped off the wagon, a sour look on his face. “Oh what, and the rest of us are here on playtime?” Jack forced his way into Davey’s personal space. “Hey, hey, just because we only make pennies don’t give them the right to shove our noses in it.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t strike. You’re not a union.”

Then, in a very Jack Kelly fashion, he shrugged. “What is I says we is?”

Davey looked at him like he was an idiot. “There’s a lot of stuff you gotta have in order to be a union. Like… membership.”

Jack slowly turned to his hoard of newsies. “...Uh, what do you call these guys?” The boys waved and whistled in response.

“And officers!” Davey added. 

Honestly, it felt like he was just coming up with excuses now, and that didn’t sit well with Jesse, so he shouted out, “I nominate Jack president!”

The boys muttered in agreement. “Aw, gee, I’m touched.” Jack replied sarcastically.

“How about a statement of purpose?” Davey quirked an eyebrow at Jack, as if that would stop him.

“Yeah, I must’ve left that in my other pants.” Jack snapped back.

“Um, what’s a statement of purpose?” Race raised his hand, as if in a classroom. Jesse seriously doubted Race had ever been in a classroom before in his life.

“A reason for forming the union,” Davey answered helpfully.

“Well what reason do the trolley workers have?!” Jack erupted, growing more and more frustrated by Davey.

Davey sputtered for a moment. “I don’t know! Wages? Work hours? Safety on the job?”

Jesse scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be nice...” He muttered to himself. Beside him, Romeo barked a laugh in agreement.

“Well, who don’t need that!” Jack exclaimed as if it was obvious. “Hey,” He jabbed a finger into Davey’s chest. “I bet if your father had a union, you wouldn’t need to be out here selling papes right now, yeah?”

Davey faltered. “...Yeah.” 

Jack shoved Davey roughly. “So!” He turned back to the boys enthusiastically. “Our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs!” He hoped back onto the wagon. “United we stand! Hey, that’s not bad, somebody write that down.”

“I got a pencil!” Les chimed helpfully.

Jack grinned widely and ruffled Les’s hair. “Well, meet our secretary of state!”

“If you wanna strike, the memberships gotta vote!” Davey interjected. Jesse could tell he wasn’t on board with this. Poor kid had probably never been on an adventure before in his life. 

Jesse blinked at the thought. He guessed this counted as an adventure, right? Who needs the Eiffel tower? He had New York. This could be interesting.

“Okay, so we vote!” Jack gave a firm nod. “What do ya say, fellas? The choice is yours…” Jesse scoffed, they all knew how the vote would go. This a mere formality. “Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets? Or do we strike?!”

“Strike!” The boys cheered.

Jack practically beamed at the response. “Yeah! You heard the voice of the membership! The newsies of lower Manhattan are officially on strike!”

“Uh, wouldn’t a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?” Jesse interjected, knowing Jack, as passionate as he might be, was a forgetful son of a bitch.

Race sent a glare to Wiesel. “It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!”

“And who tells Pulitzer?” Jack asked. “Huh? Davey?”

Davey, looking conflicted, sighed. “I don't know. I guess you do, Mr. President.”

Jesse wanted to stay to listen to their following impassioned speech, but a hand grabbed his elbow. He glanced over to see Mr. Wiesel. “Come here, kid.” Wiesel calmly pulled Jesse aside. “Listen, Crutchie, you was always polite, so I’m gonna help you out right now.” He pointed towards Jack. “Don’t get caught up in this. Buy your papes, keep your head down, and move on with ya’ life.”

Jesse glanced between Wiesel and Jack, who hadn’t even noticed his absence. Jesse shook Wiesel’s hand off his arm. “Sorry, Weasel. This looks like an adventure, and I want in on it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST ANGST ANGST LOVE CONFESSION YOU'RE WELCOME

As Jack wrote the word “Strike” in chalk above newsie square, the boys erupted into cheers. “Pulitzer may own the world, but he don’t own us!” Jack screamed over them. “Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won’t whip us!”

Jesse couldn’t help but beam at Jack from below. Loud and proud, he cheered with his fellow newsies.

Jack continued his improvised speech. “We’ve been keeping score! Either they gives us our rights, or we gives them a war!”

Jack climbed down from the billboard. “Come on!” He shouted. “We’re telling Pulitzer!”

They marched like soldiers to Pulitzer's front door, Jack and Davey in the lead, Jesse stayed just behind him. People stared as they walked past, shouting and chanting, making their grievances known.

They reached the door and Jack hesitated, turning to look at Jesse. He looked uncertain for the first time since the word ‘strike’ was uttered. Knowing his friend needed reassurance, Jesse placed a hand on his shoulder with a hardened expression. “The things we do today will be tomorrow's news.”

Jack gave a curt nod, seemingly encouraged enough to continue. He linked arms with Davey, who linked arms with Les, and together they marched inside. Jesse and the others hung back, awaiting their return.

Race joined Jesse, a hand on his shoulder. “Do ya think he’ll cave?”

“Nah.” Jesse shook his head with a scoff.

Almer blinked at him. “Then why are we doin’ this exactly?”

Jesse shrugged. “Nothing worth havin’ comes easy, fellas. We’re gonna have to put up a fight.”

The door burst open before a reply came, and the boys scrambled back to avoid being hit. A security guard literally threw Jack, Davey, and Les outside. “And stay out!” He ordered before slamming the door.

Jesse limped to Jack hurriedly. “Are ya okay?” He extended a hand to Jack, offering to help him up. Jack blinked at him, hesitating, thinking, then took Jesse’s hand. He pulled Jack to his feet whole Les shouted obscenities at the door that he definitely didn’t learn from Davey.

“I’m fine.” Jack mumbled, almost bitterly. Even thought he was on his feet, he still gripped Jesse’s hand tightly. 

“Are ya sure? You’re bruisin’ my hand.” Jesse laughed uncomfortably. 

Jack’s immediately dropped his hand and brushed himself off. “Well.” He raised his voice to catch the other boy’s attention. “He didn’t take kindly to that, did he, fellas?”

Davey scoffed. “What now?”

Jack considered, scowling deeply. “...If Pulitzer wants to walk all over us, we’ll stomp all over him.”

“Can they kick us out? Take away our vote?” Jesse asked, genuinely unsure of the answer. Pulitzer didn’t care about their strike. He’d made that clear.

“No!” Jack snapped, almost defensively, jabbing a finger into Jesse’s chest. “We’re not gonna let him shove this crock of garbage down our throats.”

The boys found themselves resting in the diner less than an hour later. With no papers to sell, they had nowhere to be. Jesse sat beside Jack, who was sipping a free glass of water. Jack sighed and set the glass down. He looked exhausted.

“Your starin’ Crutchie.” Jack muttered dully.

Jesse shifted his chair a bit closer to Jack. He folded his hands in his lap and averted his gaze. “...Sorry I didn’t come back to the rooftop last night.”

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek. “Where did ya go? If you slept on the street I’m gonna kick your ass. It’s dangerous.”

“We already sleep on the street.” Crutchie reminded in amusement.

“Yeah, but in a good neighborhood!” Jack defended, as if that made it all better.

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh and duck his head. “I uh…” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I want to go to Santa fe with you, Jack. After the strike is over, let's go, okay?”

A smile spread like butter across Jack’s face. He had a new brightness in his eyes. “Really?”

Before Jesse could respond, Davey spoke up from across the diner. “I’d say we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner!” He raised his glass proudly, as if making a toast.

The response he got a dumbfounded silence. Jesse just shook his head at David.

“I don’t know about that,” Finch broke the silence. “But we sure scared the bejeebers outta Weasel!”

“And did you see the Delanceys?! They didn’t know which way was up!” Jesse added with a wide grin. He was right about this being an adventure. They’d barely done anything yet, but damn was it exciting.

“So what’s next?” Jack asked, climbing to stand atop a table.

“Now you have to spread the word.” Davey answered helpfully. “Let the rest of the city’s newsies know about the strike.”

Jack gave a curt nod of understanding and quickly got to work. “Hey, you heard the man! Let’s split up, let’s spread the word.” 

“I’ll take Harlem!” One newsie volunteered.

“I got Midtown!” Race added, jumping from his chair.

I got the Bronx!” Romeo shouted, following suit.

“And I got the Bowery!” Another exclaimed.

Jack nodded approvingly, then pointed across the diner. “Uh, Specs, you take Queens! Tommy Boy, take the East Side! And who wants Brooklyn?”

The diner fell deadly silent, and the boys sunk in on themselves, all avoiding eye contact, for fear of being pegged with the job. Jesse had half a mind to volunteer. No matter how dangerous Brooklyn got, it’s not like Jesse could die. He’d be fine. On the other hand, he knew Jak would never allow it.

“Oh, come on!” Jack whined. “Brooklyn! Spot Conlon’s turf! Finch! You tellin’ me you scared of Brooklyn?” He teased, hoping that would spark some courage, most likely.

“I ain’t scared of no turf!” Finch snapped back, pointing almost accusingly at Jack. 

“Then take Brooklyn.” Jack insisted.

Finch’s confidence immediately faded. “But that Spot Conlon gets me a little… jittery.”

Jack, knowing he was defeated, groaned. “Ugh! Me and Davey with take Brooklyn.”

Davey’s eyes bugged out of his skull. “Me?! No!”

Before they could dissolve into a pointless argument, a familiar face waltzed into the diner. “Why is everyone so scared of Brooklyn?” She asked. It was the girl from before, the one Jack hit on. The one he drew.

Jesse’s face fell at the mere sight of her. “Oh.” He muttered to himself. For a moment, Jesse made eye contact with Race from across the diner. He almost looked sympathetic.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jack asked, his shoulders tensing in her presence.

“Asking a question. Have you got an answer?” She gestured to him challengingly.

Jack scoffed and hopped off the table. “Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world. You got Brooklyn, you hit the mother load.” He walked towards her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Say, for someone who works at the New York Sun, you’re spendin’ an awful lot of time hanging around at the World. So what’s that about, huh?” Jack jokingly ducked behind David, as if to hide. “Are you following me?”

“The only thing I’m following is a story.” She corrected, looking quite pleased with herself. She gestured around the diner. “A ragtag group of ragamuffins wants to take on the king makers of New York? Wow, do you think you stand a chance?” She turned to Race for an answer.

Jack interrupted before Race could reply. “Shouldn’t you be at the ballet?”

That didn’t deter the girl. “Is the question too difficult? I’ll rephrase. Will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a bunch of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name?” She crossed the diner, pacing as she spoke.

Her tone was a bit too harsh for Jesse’s taste. “Hey! You don’t gotta be insulting! I got a nickle!”

Her face morphed between a few different emotions, honestly it seemed she didn’t know whether to apologize or laugh. “So,” She begun after recomposing herself. “I guess you’d say you’re a couple of David’s looking to take on Goliath.”

“We never said that.” Davey interjected, a scowl on his face.

She smiled at him smugly. “Well, you didn’t have to, I did.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, sat back down, and turned them out. He’d been doing that a lot lately, tuning people out. When you live to be one hundred and eight, you start to realize certain conversations are pointless. Jesse didn’t exactly want to speak to Jack’s newest lady love anyway.

She kind of reminded Jesse of Winnie, with her fiery personality, quick wit, and sharp tongue. Jesse scoffed at himself and his own thoughts. Everything always had to come back to Winnie, didn’t it?

Jesse didn’t tune back in until the waiter was shooing them out for the paying customers. The other boys dispersed as they left the diner, but Jesse hung back upon seeing the reporter girl grab Jack by the shoulder.

“So, what’s your story?” She asked, a nervous shime in her voice. “Are you selling papers to work your way through art school?”

Jack outright laughed at the idea. “Art school, are you kiddin’ me?”

Jesse scoffed, standing off to the side. An artist he might be, but a student he was not.

“But you’re an artist.” The reporter girl protested. “You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the paper illustrating, not outside hawking it.” She held out a newspaper, and Jesse caught a glimpse of the charcoal sketch dawning it’s pages. Jesse had to advert his eyes.

“Maybe that ain’t what I want.” Jack suggested, making brief eye contact with Jesse from across the square.

Feeling as if he was intruding, Jesse ducked his head. He considered leaving, but part of him needed to hear this. Maybe if he heard Jack say he liked this girl, he could accept it and move on. Maybe the heartbreak was what he needed.

“So tell me what you want?” She prompted.

Jesse glanced back up, out of curiosity. Jack was looking straight past the girl, staring directly at him. There was something painful in Jack’s eyes.

“Can’t you see it? In my eyes?” Jack asked. He wasn’t looking at the girl, and Jesse’s face grew hot instantly.

Awkwardly, the reporter girl ruined the moment. She stepped back. ”Yeah… okay. Have you always been their leader?”

Jack finally broke eye contact with Jesse, and turned to answer her questions, seemingly disappointed. “Hey, I’m a blowhard. Davey is the brains.” He waved it off dismissively.

“Modesty is not a quality I would have pinned on you.” She replied, glancing him up and down, as if sizing him up.

“You got a name?” Jack asked, visibly irritated by her.

“Katherine… Plumber.” She answered hesitantly.

Jesse didn’t stay to hear the rest. He needed to think. Turning on his heels, he hurried off. It was late, and high time he got back to the rooftop. It had been a long, tiring day, and Jesse desperately needed a nap.

As he climbed the ladder, Jesse doubted he’d actually get any sleep. The look Jack had in his eyes was painted behind his eyelids, and likely would be forever. He headed for his pillow, intending to at least lay down, but he stopped.

Jesse glanced across the roof at Jack’s pillow, and the old papers stuffed under it. He chewed his bottom lip, fully knowing it was a terrible idea, but also longing to see it again. After seeing Katherine’s drawing, part of him needed to reassure himself his actually existed, and that he didn’t dream it.

Jesse sighed at himself, but gave in. He snuck across the roof, as if someone might be watching. Gingerly, he leaned down and reached under the pillow. Jesse pulled out a small stack of old newspapers, all covered in charcoal. 

Now he just needed to find his in the stack. Jesse unfolded them and felt the breath leave his lungs.

It was him, a drawing of Jesse, but not the same one as before. This one had his head ducked in embarassed laughter, eyes shining. Jesse gulped nervously, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Jack probably drew all the newsies, right?

He flipped to the next page. Jesse again. The next, more Jesse. The next, once again, Jesse. They were all Jesse from different angles, with different expressions, and poses. Every single paper was filed edge to edge with drawings of Jesse Tuck.

“What’re you doing?!” An all too familiar voice exclaimed from behind. Jesse yelped and nearly dropped the pages. Jack came stomping up and yanked the papers out of Jesse’s hands. He hugged them to his chest, his face bright red and a scowl on his lips.

“I, uh…” Jesse stammered for an excuse, but found none. He was still too shocked.

“No one told you you could go through those.” Jack grumbled, eyes narrowed.

Jesse bit his bottom lip. “Jackie…”

“Don’t!” Jack snapped before shoving the pages back under his pillow. “I know what you’re gonna say, so just don’t!”

Jesse fell silent. He highly doubted Jack knew what he was going to say, since even Jesse didn’t know. He reached for Jack, in attempt to comfort him, but Jack flinched away. Jesse retracted his hand immediately. “Sorry.”

Jack averted his gaze, looking ashamed of himself. It broke Jesse’s heart.

Jesse cleared his throat awkwardly. “Jack,” He begun, leaning in close, his voice a mere whisper. “Tell me what you want.”

Jack froze solid. Jesse could feel his breath against his face. They were so close, a slight breeze could knock them together. Jack looked like he was using all his self restraint, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the handrail.

“I—, I don’t know anymore.” His voice came out broken and shaky. He sounded on the verge of tears. “I don’t know anymore, Crutchie.”

“Jesse.” He corrected automatically. Jack had a right to know. He trusted him. “My name is Jesse. Jesse Tuck.”

Jack immediately broke down in tears, a strangled sob ripping through his throat. Jesse gasped, but wasted no time enveloping him in a hug. Jack clung to him like a lifeline. “I’m so confused.”

Jesse rubbed his back comfortingly, an overwhelming sense of empathy hitting him. “I know, Jackie. I know. What are you confused about?”

“Something’s wrong with me!” Jack cried out, pulling back just enough to wipe his tears and look at Jesse head on. He sniffled. “I want to like Katherine, but I—,” He cut himself off abruptly.

Jesse gulped nervously, and supplied the answer for him. “...like boys?”

“You.” Jack corrected. “You. I—, I don’t get it, I just—,”

“You don’t have to get it.” Jesse assured him. “It’s confusing at first, I know. I know what it’s like to—,”

“Like boys?” Jack finished for him, sniffling.

Jesse gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go badly, to say the least.

The next morning, Jesse could tell Jack was running on empty. They lingered outside the circulation gate, hopelessly awaiting any kind of support from the other city’s newsies. No such luck yet.

“Is anyone else comin’?” Davey asked for what had to be the fifth time at least. Jesse rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got no clue.” Jack answered with a tired sigh. He had bags forming under his eyes. Jesse couldn’t tell if he was physically tired of emotionally tired, but he supposed it could be both. Jack had had a rough week so far.

“Hey, well, you seen Spot Conlon, right?” Race asked, fidgeting with his cigar. “What—, What’d he say?”

“Yeah, sure, we’s seen him.” Jack nodded, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Him and about twenty of his gang.” Davey added helpfully.

Jesse already didn’t like the sound of this. “And?”

“And them Brooklyn boys is big.” Les answered, eyes wide.

Jack shrugged. “And I’s gotta say, Spot was very impressed. Wasn’t he?” He glanced to Davey.

David nodded in agreement. “I’d say.”

“Alright, so they’re with us?” Race’s face lit up.

“That all depends on how you look at it.” Davey answered, slight irritation showing in his tone. “If you look and see Brooklyn, then they’re with us.” 

Jesse slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. Who knew Davey had a sense of humor?

“Yeah, they wanted proof we weren’t gonna fold at the first sign of trouble.” Jack explained, briefly making eye contact with Jesse.

“Are we?” Finch asked as he joined them at the gate.

Jack looked at him like he was an idiot. “We are not! No!” He turned to the other boys. “No, there’s us, they’re Harlem—,”

“Well, not so fast boss.” The newsie assigned to Harlem interjected. “Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do.”

“What about Queens?” Jack turned to Specs, praying for good news.

“Queens will be right here, backin’ us up!” Specs exclaimed, tossing an arm over Jesse’s shoulder with a wide grin.

“Are you serious?!” Jack laughed.

“—As soon as we get the nod from Brooklyn.” Specs finished, causing the boys to groan in disappointment.

Jack turned to Jesse. “Crutchie—, Uh,” He hesitated a moment, then corrected himself. “Jesse, are the rest of our boys comin’ at least?”

Jesse couldn’t help the corner of his lips twitching upwards when Jack used his real name. It felt god to hear it again. “Yeah, any minute now.”

Specs blinked at them. “Jesse? Your name is Jesse? Since when is your name Jesse?”

Jesse have Specs a light shove. “Keep my name out your mouth. Only Jack has permission to use that. It’s still Crutchie to you.” He jabbed a finger into Spec’s chest scoldingly.

The smug grin that reached Jack’s face was infectious, and soon Jesse was grinning too.

The moment was interrupted by the Delancey brothers approaching the gate. “Say, Oscar…” Morris began. “It looks like we got bum information about a strike happenin’ here today.” They unlocked the gate and yanked the doors open. “Not that I’m complaining…” Morris punched his palm harshly. “I know my skull bustin’ arm could use a day of rest!” He practically screamed.

Jack gave Morris a look that just screamed, ‘okay, calm down, edgelord.’ The Delancey brothers walked off without another word, and they boys drifted through the gates.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Les asked innocently, with big wide puppy dog eyes.

“Of course we are!” Davey assured him.

“Hey maybe we should put this off a few days.” Race suggested, almost guiltily.

Davey turned on him immediately. “No, we can not just put this—,” He stopped abruptly, then pushed past Race. “Jack! They are not—, Ugh! Say somethin’, tell ‘em if we back off now, they will never listen to us again!”

Jesse stood beside Jack, and nudged his friend. “Davey’s right, Jackie. They need a pep talk.”

Jack nodded and did as requested, heading straight for the boys. “Hey! Hey! We can’t back down now, alright? No matter who does or doesn’t show. You like it or not, now is when we gotta take a stand.”

“How’s about we just don’t show up for work?” Finch suggested. “That’ll send a message.”

“No!” Jesse interjected, limping towards them. “They’ll just replace us!”

“Jesse’s right, they need to see us stand our ground!” Jack agreed, raising his voice considerably. He turned to David, and gave him a pleading look. “Davey, you tell them!”

Davey sighed, but stepped up to the plate. “Now is the time to seize the day, fellas. We’ll find a way but we can’t just give up, or put this off.”

“Hey, Specs! Any signs of reinforcements?” Jack called to where Specs stood by the gate. Specs gave him a big thumbs down, and Jack sighed in disappointment.

The morning bell rang out, and Jesse grabbed Jack’s arm. “Are we doin’ this?” He asked lowly, needing reassurance himself now.

Jack clasped a hand over Jesse’s shoulder and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, Jesse. We’re doin’ this.”

Side by side, shoulder to shoulder, the boys marched towards the selling window. Wiesel was standing there, a big grin on his face. “The sun is up! The birds are singing! It’s a beautiful day to crack some heads!” He sent Jack a menacing glare. “Ain’t it?” Behind him, the Delancey’s laughed.

Wiesel stepped into Jack’s personal space. “Step right up and get your papes.”

Three boys pushed through the crowd, their heads down and their pace fast. They practically ran to the window to get their papers. Jack grimace at the sellouts.

Davey gasped. “Who are they?!”

“Scabs!” Jack answered with a gruff tone.

“They think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs?!” Jesse exclaimed, offended and betrayed. What self respecting newsie would sell them out?

“Let’s soak ‘em boys!” Finch shouted, moving to attack, but Davey yanked him back by the collar of his shirt.

“No, no, no! We all stand together!” Davey insisted. “Or we don’t have a chance! Jack!” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I hear ya!” Jack shouted back. He approached the scabs, his shoulders tense. “Fellas, I know someone put you’s up to this. Yeah, they probably paid you some extra money too, huh?”

The scabs averted their eyes, shamed, but made no moves to correct themselves. “Yeah, well, it ain’t right.” Jack continued. He pointed accusingly towards the building. “Pulitzer thinks we’re gutter rats, with no respect for nothin’, including each other! Is that who we are, huh?! Well, we stab each other in the back, then yeah, that’s who we are! But if we stand together, we can change the whole game!”

Jesse limped forward and placed a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder, but made no attempt to interrupt or interject. He just wanted to show his support.

“And it ain’t just about us!” Jack shouted, his voice going raw from emotion. “Yeah, all across this city there are boys and girls, who oughta be out playin’ and goin’ to school! Instead they are slavin’ to support themselves, and their folks! Ain’t no crime to bein’ poor! No, not a one of us complains that the work we do is hard,” Jack turned abruptly to face Jesse, clasping a hand over his shoulder and pointing back to the building. “All we ask is a square deal!”

He turned back to the scabs, who shifted uncomfortably under his intense glare. “For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in this city… I beg you, throw down your papers, and join the strike.”

Jesse felt his heart swell with pride for his friend. Jack damn well knew how to give a convincing speech.

Les, a master of cuteness, stepped forward to add his two cents, in the form of an endearing, “Please?”

One of the scabs stepped forward, invading Jack’s personal space. Jack practically shoved Jesse behind him, shielding him in case the scab got violent. Maybe not the most practical response, given Jesse’s unique situation, but a heartwarming one all the same.

After a long moment of silence the scab slammed his papers to the concrete. “I’m with ya!” The other two quickly followed, and the boys erupted into victorious cheers. 

They ripped papers apart and scattered the pieces like confetti. Jesse playfully threw a handful into Jack’s face, who barked a laugh. “You wanna go?!” Jesse yelped and scrambled away as Jack scooped up a whole armful of shredded paper to dump on him.

Jack caught up to him with ease, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him around, then showering him in paper shreds. Breathless, they stood there a moment, in the center of the chaos, boys running and cheering around them.

Jack didn’t let go of Jesse’s arms, and neither made an attempt to pull away. Lost in the moment, wide grins on both their faces, Jack reached for Jesse’s cheek, to cup it gently. Before his fingers even brushed Jesse’s face, their celebration was interrupted.

The Delancey’s plus a few other thugs, were grabbing newsies and tossing them about, throwing punches. Jack once again shoved Jesse behind him instinctively. It didn’t take much to send the Delancey’s running, after all, the newsies outnumbered them ten to one.

Katherine was there soon enough, like promised, with a camera. She had the boys pose by the selling window, and Jack pulled Jesse under his arm for the photo. Jesse deliberately turned his head at the last second, so the photo only got an obscured profile of him.

Number one immortality rule; Don’t leave evidence you ever existed.

Katherine, satisfied with her picture, took her leave, and the boys picked up celebrating where they left off; shredding papers. That lasted for about five seconds before they heard a loud clank.

Weasel was where, holding a metal baseball bat, with about twenty thugs, and two moderately beat up Delancey's standing behind him.

“Oh, crap.” Jack muttered to himself, his fingers curling around Jesse’s arm and slowly pulling him behind him for the third time today. If Jesse wasn’t immortal and indestructable, he might’ve found it more reassuring than it actually was. Now he was just worried Jack would get himself killed.

The newsies scattered, all heading for the exits, but the thugs had blocked their way out. The boys grabbed stacks of papers, prepared to use them as projectiles or bludgeons, whatever worked.

“It’s time these kids learned a lesson.” Weasel sneered, swinging his bat theatrically.

Jack stepped forward, but kept himself in front of Jesse, purposefully blocking Weasel’s view of him. “Newsies…” He began, shoulders tense. “Get ‘em!”

Stacks of papers flew like catapults, and the square erupted into chaos. Jesse lost track of Jack, but found Race being beaten to the ground by one of Weasel’s thugs. Jesse dropped his crutch and grabbed the thug, throwing him off Race, then helping his fellow newsie to his feet.

“Thanks, Crutchie, I—,” Jesse cut Race off by shoving him aside just in time, as the same thug pulled a knife and lunged. He missed Race, instead hitting Jesse in the chest. “Oh my god!” Race screamed, but the thug took a step back and looked down at his knife. The metal had bent upon contact with Jesse’s indestructible skin. He was unharmed, but his clothes were ripped.

The thug dropped his knife and bolted, yelling something about the devil as we went.

Jesse turned to Race, who was staring with both hands over his gaping mouth. “...You weren’t lyin’.” Race managed to squeak out.

Jesse grabbed Race by the front of his vest and yanked him forward. “Race, pal, you’re my friend, but as far as you’re concerned I’m a mortal cripple boy from New York called Crutchie, got it?” Race nodded mutely, his eyes blown wide, then Jesse let him go. “Ya’ better get outta here before you really do get stabbed.” Race wasted no time taking his advice, and bolted towards the gate.

Jesse wasn’t leaving until he found Jack. He grabbed his crutch, but before he could look for his friend, a whistle sounded. The fighting paused, and a group of policemen came into view.

“It’s about time you showed up!” Romeo cried. “They’re slaughtering us!”

The police man promptly slapped Romeo across the face as hard as he could, knocking the boy to the ground. Suddenly, the newsies found themselves outnumbered two to one, and Jesse really, really needed to find Jack before an officer pulled their gun.

Jesse caught a glimpse of Jack through the chaos, Snider the Spider was pointing a pistol at him, and Jesse’s heart leapt into his throat. Jack threw a stack of papers at him, and took his chance to scram.

Jesse moved to follow, but was immediately grabbed by both Delaney brothers. He tried to shake them off, but immortality didn’t come with super strength. He couldn’t get away.

“Jack! Wait for me!” He screamed, but the fighting drowned him out. Jesse’s heart was pounding. He was going to the refuge if he didn’t get out of this immediately. “Jack, help! Romeo! Finch! Race!” He cried out desperately, praying someone would come to his rescue.

“Aw, shut it crip!” Oscar ripped his crutch away from him. Jesse knew he didn’t need it, but somehow seeing it be taken away made him feel powerless.

Morris punched Jesse square in the jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. His head bounced against the concrete painfully, and Jesse found himself staring up at the fire escapes on Pulitzer’s building.

There was Jack, staring down at him, horrified, mid-escape. Snider stood over him, blocking his view of Jack. “Well, it’s off to the refuge with you, little man.” He grabbed Jesse’s crutch.

He was panicking, his entire body filled with fear. He couldn’t go there. He just couldn’t. Jack had told him stories of that place, and it chilled him to his very core.

Snider lifted the crutch and brought it down on Jesse as hard as he could, beating him mercilessly. Nothing broke, of course, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. “No! No! Stop!” Jesse screamed, fighting against his attackers, but the Delancey’s held him down.

“No please, don’t!” Jesse pleaded. “Jackie!” He screamed. “Jack! Race! Davey! Anybody!

Snider hit him hard in the side, and Jesse curled over on his side in pain. Hualing Jesse into a sitting position, Snider slapped cuffs on him, then proceeded to snap the crutch over his knee. “Take him away!” He ordered, shoving Jesse at two officers.

The last thing Jesse saw as they dragged him across the concrete, towards a patty wagon, was Jack on the fire escape, screaming his name. “Jesse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember; comments keep writers writing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse gets visitors in the refuge.

Jesse’s first impression of the refuge was pretty terrible. The shoved him into a small room with six beds, all but one bed was taken, and the free one was in, um, freshly vacaded. Two guards were dragging a boy, who couldn’t be older than five, coughing blood out of the bed.

One of the guards, still holding the little boy by the back of the shirt, as if he was in trouble instead of gravely ill, turned to Jesse. “That’s your bed.”

Jesse faltered, staring down at his new bunk, and the blood staining the surface. “That’s super disgusting.” He muttered to himself. Jesse knew he’d be fine, whatever illness the boy had couldn’t hurt him, but that didn’t make it pleasant. 

Jesse, unwilling to sleep on the filthy bed, but not foolish enough to complain, stripped the bloody sheets off the bed. He dumped them on the floor, then sat down. The bed springs groaned under his weight, and Jesse could feel them pressed through the fabric. It definitely wasn’t a comfortable bed, and the reek in the room was enough to make him gag, but a bed was a bed and he didn’t have that luxury on the rooftop. Unsurprisingly, Jesse prefered the rooftop. 

He wasn’t sure he believed in god. His belief was shaken when he hit about year fifty of his immortality. The elimination of heaven as an option would do that to a guy, but now, sitting in the stink and filth of the very place Jack was once locked up, Jesse prayed with all his heart that Jack got away.

Prayers didn’t seem good enough, Jesse needed something solid. He reached into his pocket, remembering he had a slip of paper down there. He could write Jack a letter from the refuge, assuring him Jesse was okay and not to worry. It wasn’t hard to find a piece of charcoal discarded on the cluttered floor. It was small, but it would do.

Jesse climbed back onto his bunk and leaned over a melting candle for light.

‘Dear Jack,’ He began scribbling, his handwritten messy. 

‘Greetings from the refuge. How are you? I’m okay. I guess I wasn’t much help yesterday, sorry about that. Snider soaked me real good with my crutch.’ Jesse hesitated, how many kids got caught? Where there others in the refuge? Jesse supposed it was best to clarify. ‘Oh, yeah, Jack, this is Jesse, by the way. These hear guards, they is rude. They just pulled a blood vomiting boy from my bed, and now I have to sleep in it.’ Jesse chewed the inside of his cheek, then decided to add a joke, hoping it might lift Jack’s spirit when the letter found him. ‘But the food ain’t so bad, least so far. ‘Cause so far, they ain’t brung us no food.’ Jesse punctuated it with a ‘Haha.’

Jesse moved to a new paragraph. ‘I miss the rooftop.’ Jesse’s eyes threatened to water, but he refused to cry on this letter. This was supposed to reassure Jack, not make things worse. ‘Sleepin’ right out in the open, in your penthouse in the sky. Anyway, so guess what? There’s a secret escape plan I got. Tie a sheet to the bed, toss the end out the window, climb down then take off like a shot! Maybe though, not to tonight. I ain’t slept properly in a few days. Maybe tomorrow.’

‘But hey,’ Jesse quickly changed topics. ‘Pulitzer, he’s going down! And then, Jack, I was thinking we might just go, like we was saying? To Santa fe? I want to go with you the second I’m out of here.’

‘I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll be fine, good as new, but there’s one thing I need you to do; On the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each other, so take the sock out from under my pillow. Don’t ask me how I got it all, just keep yourself and the boys fed.’

Jesse went to sign it, but hesitated. ‘Your friend,’ He crossed that out. ‘Your best friend,’ He crossed that out too. ‘Love, Jesse.’

Satisfied with the letter. Jesse nodded to himself. Now he just needed a way to get it to Jack.

As if on cue, a familiar face popped up in the window beside Jesse’s bunk. “Crutchie!” Race hissed, standing atop a ladder and pressing his face against the bars. “Crutchie!”

Jesse startled, and a spark of hope flared through him. “Race! You’re okay, ya made it out?”

Race nodded. “Yeah, thanks to you. When I heards you got caught, I came lookin’ for ya.”

A wide smile spread across Jesse’s face. “Thanks, Race, but I need to ask a favor of you.” Jesse held out the letter.

Race held up a hand, signalling for him to stop. “Crutchie, before I do anything for you, I need the truth. That knife bent against your skin; how the hell is that possible?”

Jesse’s smile faltered, he examined Race’s face, trying to decide if he was trustworthy. He sighed, it’s not like he had a choice. Jesse leaned closer, so only Race could hear. “Once upon a time—, Once upon a time, can I start like that?” Jesse hesitated, getting a horrible sense of dejavu. “Be patient with me, Race, I haven’t told this in six years.”

Race nodded understandingly. “Keep going.”

“Once there was a man, a man and his wife and a family—, my brother Miles and me.” Jesse pointed to himself. “We came from the west, to settle in the east, looking for a farm or some land at least. Then we found a woods, where we found ourselves a clearing, and camped for the night. It is just the four of us, plus our cat and our horse.”

“You’s had a horse?” Race furrowed his eyebrows at Jesse, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, we had a horse. They play a crucial part. We slept by a spring and an old ash tree, and I carved a ‘T’ into the tree, for Tuck, my last name. In the morning, we had no way of knowing, without even thinking, we drank from the spring. Except for the horse, everybody drank, even the cat; remember that.”

“And?” Race gestured for him to keep talking.

Jesse cleared his throat. “So days went by, then months, then years, and ordinary life so it appeared. The old horse died at twenty five, but the cat was still alive.” A grimace crossed Jesse’s face. “We weren’t changing, or aging, or growing. Nobody thought it was because of the spring but uh… we eventually figured it out.”

“The fountain of youth?” Race quirked an eyebrow at him.

Jesse nodded grimly. “The town began to talk, people shied away. They were so outraged we hadn’t aged!” Jesse pointed to himself, almost accusingly. “I survived a freefall! Fifty feet down, not a scratch!”

“Jesus…” Race muttered.

“Yeah, hurt like hell though.” Jesse scoffed. “But uh… once upon a time, we drank from a spring, and now we’ll never die.”

Race blinked at him, seemingly processing the information. “...So… you’re unkillable? You said you were from New Hampshire, how’d you end up in New York?”

Jesse leaned back on the bed with a deep sigh, and fidgeted with his letter. “...Uh, a man found out about us, so my family split up to stay safe. We went our separate ways. Long story short, I ended up here, and I haven’t seen any of them for six years.” He choose to leave Winnie out of the story. Race already knew he liked boys, and Jesse didn’t have the time or patience to explain bisexuality to him.

Race ran a hand over his face as the gears turn in his head. “...Okay.” He said finally.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated, quirking an eyebrow at him. “The last time I told this story it took a bit more convincing.”

“Did you bring any of the water with yous?” Race asked, barely above a whisper.

Jesse’s hand shot to his neck. There was a tiny bottle of the liquid hanging off a string under his shirt. “...Yeah.”

“Who is it for?” Race’s eyes trailed down the string, trying to get a glimpse of the bottle.

“It’s just in case I meet someone I can’t bare to lose.” Jesse answered, white knuckling the bottle. “You don’t want it, Race. It’s not a blessing. It’s a curse. I’m one hundred and eight, but I’m gonna be seventeen for the rest of the eternity. It’s hell. My family is scattered across the world, and I have no idea where they are. I can’t permanently settle anywhere because if I stay for too long people notice me. I can’t let people take me photo because a hundred years from now someone could recognize—, what, what is that face? What’re you doing with your face?”

Race was grimacing, eyes wide. “Uh… I brought this for you.” He reached through the window bars, a newspaper in his hand. “Katherine wrote it… front page, above the fold.”

Jesse took it gingerly and unfolded the paper. As it turned out, Jesse didn’t turn his face quick enough. The camera had caught a clear picture of his face. “Dammit.” Jesse cursed. “If my parents see this they’re gonna kill me.” Race opened his mouth to correct him, but Jesse beat him to it. “I’m exaggerating.”

Race chewed the inside of his cheek awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Jesse sighed and handed the paper back. “It’s fine, just… do be a favor, bring this to Jack.” Jesse held out his letter. Race hesitated, so Jesse motivated him a bit. “Come on, man, I saved your life yesterday.”

Race sighed and took the letter. “Okay.”

The next day Jesse got another visitor, part of him expected it to be Jack, but no, of course not. “Are you fucking stupid?” Miles shoved a copy of the paper through the barred window, showing off the picture. “You got involved in a strike? You got yourself locked up! Your picture in in the paper! Was this on purpose? You’re so lucky I was in Brooklyn cause if I was any further away I wouldn’t have come to bail you out, you absolute dumbass.”

Jesse could only blink at his brother dully. “It’s great to see you, by the way, Miles.” He replied with a sarcastic eye roll. “It’s been years, how are you?”

Miles whacked him with the paper. “Don’t try to change the topic!”

Jesse ignored his complaint. “I’ve been good, livin’ large in New York City, ya know?”

Miles erupted. “We all know, Jesse! You’re in the fucking newspaper! Mom called me because of this!”

That caught Jesse’s attention. “Mom called you? You know where she is?”

“Yeah, her and dad are in Ohio nowadays.” Miles shrugged, still scowling.

Jesse matched his scowl. “Oh, Ohio. They tried to stone me there like fifty years ago. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

Miles blinked at him. “You got stoned?”

Jesse nodded with a dismissive shrug. “Well, yeah, they tried.”

Miles gave him a look like he was stupid. “Why?!”

Jesse flinched at his tone. “Cause they caught me with another boy.”

Miles groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Oh my god, you’re getting together with people? You saw what happened with Winnie, and my wife, and—, Are you stupid? Immortals can’t have mortal partners—,” Miles cut himself off, his eyes landing on the bottle around Jesse’s neck. “...Jesse…” He began scoldingly.

Jesse was a bit sick of listening to this, so he reached through the abrs and pushed the ladder off the wall, sending Miles tumbling about forty feet to the ground. He’d be fine, unfortunately, Miles startled and reached for something to catch himself on. His fingers curled around the little bottle, and ripped right off Jesse’s neck.

“No!” Jesse leapt at the barred window, immediately regretting his actions. He peered down at the ground, where his brother was picking himself up off the ground.

Miles shot Jesse a glare, held up the bottle, almost trumiphtly, then stomped off into the night. “I’m telling mom!” He shouted, outraged, as he retreated.

Jesse slumped back into his bed. He crossed his arms, scowled, and grumbled to himself, “Yeah, real mature for a hundred year old guy, Miles.”

Less than a hour later, Jesse was sleeping when he felt something shake his shoulder lightly. “Jesse?” A hesitant voice asked.

Jesse’s eyes shot open and he scrambled into a sitting position. Jack was standing on the ladder outside his window. He had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and a distressed look on his face. “Jackie!” Jesse breathed, immediately shooting both hands through the bars. Jack held his hands gingerly.

“I missed you, are you okay? Did they hurt you? Have you gotten food yet? Where did you get all the money under your pillow? Do you feel ill? ‘Cause when I was here people got sick and died a lot and—,” Jack questioned rapid fire, but Jesse cut him off by learning through the bars and planting a kiss on his lips.

Jack went silent and stiff immediately, but quickly melted into it. He cupped Jesse’s face like he was the most precious thing in the world. The kiss was everything Jesse imagined it would be and more. Jack’s lips were soft as they moved against Jesse's.

Jack was the first one to pull back, keeping his hands on Jesse’s cheeks. He stared at Jesse like he held the stars in his eyes, breathless. “I think I love you.” He whispered, surprising even himself.

Jesse blinked at him before a wide smile spread across his face. He pressed a chaste kiss to Jack’s lips. “I love you too.”

Jack practically clung to him. “I’m getting you out of here.” Jack declared. He reached into his bag and pulled out a crowbar. “There’s no way I’m leaving you ever again, especially not here.”

Jesse grabbed his wrist. “No, Jackie, you’ll get arrested and end up in here too. Go home, please, go home.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Jack snapped back.

Jesse tightened his grip on Jack’s wrist. “Jackie, I’ve got a way out. Trust me.”

Jack scanned Jesse’s face, looking uncertain. “...How?”

Jesse gave a sheepish smile. “...My brother kinda saw my face in the papes, came to get me. He’ll be back soon.”

“You’ve got a brother?” Jack asked, surprised.

Jesse nodded. “He’ll bail me out as soon as he’s done bitchin’ to my ma’ about how much trouble I’m in.”

Jack nodded uncomfortably. “...Okay, but if you aren’t out tomorrow I’m coming back to break you out.”

Jesse stuck his hand out the bars to shake on it. “Deal.”

Jack completely disregarded the hand, and instead leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Jesse’s lips. “Be safe.” He pleaded as he pulled back just an inch.

Jesse leaned forward to recapture Jack’s lips, then separated again. He gave Jack the most reassuring smile he could. “I’ll be okay. Just take my money form under my pillow, keep the boys fed, and keep the strike going.”

Jack gave a curt nod. “I will.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Mom’s going to kill you.” Miles grumbled as he signed Jesse out of the refuge. He paid the fine at the counter, grabbed Jesse by the ear and pulled him out of the building. 

“Hey! Hey!” Jesse swatted Mile’s hand off his ear. “I’m a hundred and eight, not five!”

“Then stop acting like it!” Miles shouted back, then thwacked Jesse upside the head. “Come on, where do you live? I’ll walk you back.”

Jesse crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Give me back my bottle.”

“And let you curse some poor naive idiot with immortality? I don’t think so, I dumped that shit on a stray dog the moment I left.” Miles answered smugly.

Jesse fumed with outrage. “Seriously? You pulled a Winnie? Immortality is kind of wasted on animals.”

Miles thwacked Jesse upside the head again. “It’s wasted on anyone! Now, come on, where do you live?”

Jesse groaned and marched towards his and Jack’s rooftop. He lead Miles up the fire escape, the metal groaning under their weight. Miles grimace at all of it. “...You live on a roof?”

“Oh, no, don’t hide your disapproval on my account, Miles.” Jesse replied sarcastically. “Yeah, I live on a rooftop. Not many folks are cool with renting apartments to seventeen year olds. You’re lucky you drank the water as an adult. This shit is kind of miserable.” Jese gestured up and down at his own body. “I’m stuck at the end stages of puberty for eternity.”

Miles gave a disgusted scowl. “Yeah, I’ll admit, that sucks.” Miles glanced around the roof for the first time, taking it in. He pointed at Jack’s pillow. “Who sleeps there?”

“Jack.” Jesse answered automatically.

Miles, with absolutely no respect for Jesse and Jack’s living space, picked up Jack’s pillow and pulled out the newspapers beneath. “What’s this?”

Jesse shot across the roof and ripped the papers out of Miles’ hands. “Those don’t belong to you!”

Miles held up both hands, as if in surender. “Fine, don’t tell me!”

Jesse shoved the papers back under Jack’s pillow, then grabbed Miles’ upper arm. “Come on, I promised Jackie I’d go find him when I got out.”

Miles didn’t protest but he did quirk an eyebrow at Jesse as he was dragged towards the fire escape. “Is Jackie like, your boyfriend, or…?”

Jesse lit up bright red. “Um.”

Miles scoffed bitterly. “Wow, come on, Jesse. We’ve talked about the mortal partners thing before. Don’t tell me you were gonna use that spring water on Jack?”

Jesse glared at Miles, still blushing as they reached the bottom of the ladder. “It’s none of your business, but yeah, I was considering it. If he wanted it I’d give it to him.”

Miles, for the third time, thwacked him upside the head. “Dumbass! Does he know about you?”

Jesse grabbed Miles’ arm roughly. “Hit me one more time and I’m gonna lose it.” He warned.

Miles help up both hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

Jesse sighed. “No, Jack doesn’t know about me, but Race does.”

“Race?” Miles quirked an eyebrow at him.

“He’s an idiot, but he’s trustworthy.” Jesse explained. “The other night, when I was arrested, I took a knife to the chest for him, and he saw.”

Miles nodded mutely as they walked down the street. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“The theater. Jack goes there when he needs to hide from somethin’.” Jesse pointed across the street at Medda’s theater. “Come on.”

They crossed the street, and Jesse reached for the door handle, but was immediately grabbed by Davey and yanked into a hug. “Crutchie!” He exclaimed. “You’re okay! And you aren’t even using your crutch! Or limping!”

Jesse froze solid. It occurred to him that his crutch was broken, and while with Mile he forget he was supposed to need it He laughed uncomfortably and pushed Davey off. “Uh, haha… yeah, my leg is feeling good today. I don’t think I need my crutch right now, plus, Snider broke it, so…”

“We’ll get you a new one.” Davey assured him.

“Since when do you use a crutch?” Miles asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Jesse shrugged. “You haven’t been around in six years, Miles. Things change.”

Davey glanced between Jesse and Miles. “Uh, so who are you?”

Jesse gasped, realising he hadn’t introduced them. “David, this is my older brother, Miles. He just bailed me out of the refuge like an hour ago. We’re looking for Jack.”

Davey pointed into the theater. “Yeah, me too. Katherine and Les are right behind me, they stopped cause Les had to pee though.”

“Come on, let’s find your friend, Jesse.” Miles pushed past and entered the theater, Jesse and Davey followed.

They found Jack on the floor backstage, wearing a paint splattered apron. He had smudges of purple paint on his cheek, and a brush in his hand. He was focused on his work, painting a new backdrop for Medda.

Jesse signaled for Miles and Davey to wait a moment. “Hold on.” He whispered, then snuck up behind Jack, inch by inch. He got right up behind Davey and slowly lowered himself to kneel beside Jack. “Jackie?”

Jack, having been focused on his work, startled. His head whipped around to look at Jesse, when he saw him, his face lit up. He let out a wholehearted laugh and yanked Jesse into a tight hug. “You’re okay! Oh, thank god…”

Jesse hugged back, squeezing Jack’s middle. “I missed you.” Jesse muttered into his chest.

Jack pulled away first, but immediately dove back in to kiss Jesse. Jesse placed both hands on Jack’s shoulders and held him back, a regretful look on his face. “Davey and my brother are both here.” He warned, not wanting Jack to unknowingly out himself.

Jack blinked, then turned around to see Davey, who gave an awkward wave. Miles just gave a nod of acknowledgement and a tight smile.

Jack stood, wiped his hands off his apron, then helped Jesse up. “Do you need a new crutch?” He asked as he noticed Jesse was without one.

Jesse shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. My leg is fine.”

Jack seemed to accept that answer, because he walked up to greet Miles. He offered a handshake. “Hey there, I’m Jack. Jack Kelly.”

Miles sighed and shook Jack’s hand. “Miles Tuck.” Miles turned straight to Jesse, scowling. “...How the hell did you even get caught up in this, Jesse?”

Jesse shrugged. “What, the strike? It affects my pay. I’m a newsie nowadays.”

“Why?” Miles questioned, arms crossed.

“Because there aren’t any better jobs for seventeen year olds right now, Miles!” Jesse groaned.

“Ay, Jesse’s a great newsie, too. Sells fifty papes a day,” Jack defended, wrapping an arm around Jesse’s shoulder.

Davey rolled his eyes and change the subject. “Jack, I actually need to talk to you about something. I’ve got a plan to get the strike back on track.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking sorry dudes this came out very angsty

They went back to the rooftop, just Jack and Jesse. Miles apparently had a motel room, and offered Jesse to sleep there, but honestly? He just wanted to be near Jack, so he declined. Before night fall, Jack had to go talk to Pulitzer and give him a chance to go to the rally and make his case, but that gave them a solid hour of downtime.

Jesse sighed and settled down of the roof, absentmindedly wondering if getting a new crutch was worth it. He didn’t need it, and his old one was broken, so why bother? It helped sell papes, at least, but Jesse missed running, jumping, and being reckless, you know? After all, he was only seventeen.

Jesse sighed and glanced up, catching Jack’s eyes from across the roof. He was staring, Jesse wasn’t sure for how long. “Are you okay, Jackie?”

Jack slowly crossed the roof and sat down beside Jesse, looking conflicted. “I almost lost you, today and I—, I scares me how devastated I was to see you in the refuge, Jesse.”

Hesitantly, Jesse took Jack’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He brought Jacks hand to his lips, and kissed each knuckle one by one, never breaking eye contact. “You’ll never lose me, Jack.”

Looking flustered and anxious, Jack leaned in, almost like subconsciously, like gravity was pulling him closer to Jesse. Their noses bumped together gently, and Jesse could feel Jack’s breath on his face. It was addicting.

In a low, raw voice, Jack exhaled the four words like a prayer. “I want to kiss you.”

Jesse shuddered, goosebumps rising on his arms at Jack’s tone. His eyes fluttered shut and he lifted a hand to Jack’s cheek. “You don’t need to ask.”

After a second of hesitation, Jack pressed forward, connecting their lips. Jesse tenderly cupped Jack’s face, sighing contently into the kiss. Jack didn’t seem to know where to put his hands, they hovered over Jesse’s arms, like he was afraid to touch.

Jesse pulled back from the kiss, still cupping Jack’s face. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his thumb swiping over Jack’s cheekbones fondly.

Jack gave Jesse a look of absolute helplessness. “I don’t know how to—, I ain’t never dated a—, I really like ya, and I’m afraid I’m gonna mess up.”

Jesse pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s nose, brushing some raven hair from his face. “I know, love, this is all new to you. Let me help you.”

Jack nodded mutely, so Jesse pressed their lips back together softly. Instead of cupping Jack’s face, Jesse intertwined their fingers, then guided Jack’s hands to his hips, placing them there. Jesse broke the kiss for barely a second to say, grinning, “Just hold me, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, then reconnected their lips, his hands never leaving Jesse’s hips, even after Jesse cupped his face like he was the most precious thing in the world. Jesse took a chance and nipped at Jack’s bottom lip, causing him to gasp. When Jack didn’t pull back or tell him to stop, Jesse trailed one hand down Jack’s neck, playing with the strands of black hair growing there.

Slowly, cautiously, Jack’s hands started to move. One inched up Jesse’s side, then back down, resting on his thigh. Jack’s other hand found it’s way to Jesse’s intertwining their fingers again. Jesse pulled back and inch to give Jack a questioning look.

Jack flushed. “I like holdin’ your hand.” He confessed softly.

Jesse’s heart melted and he gently squeezed Jack’s hand. “Me too.”

“Kiss me again? Jack requested, leaning in a bit. 

Jesse gave him another soft, gentle kiss, and to his surprise, Jack opened his mouth, inviting Jesse’s tongue inside. The kiss deepened, and god, Jesse never wanted to stop kissing Jack. Jack made him want everything, but somehow left him content enough to ask for nothing.

Jack seemed to be growing bolder, Jesse realized as Jack hand slid into Jesse’s back pocket. That sparked something inside of Jesse, and he practically climbed into Jack’s lap, not that he seemed to mind. Jesse’s free hand tangled in Jack’s hair, and their kiss grew more and more passionate.

“Hey Jesse, I was—, Oh for god’s sake, can you not?” Miles droned as he climbed the fire escape.

Jack actually shoved Jesse off of him, eyes blown wide with nothing but pure adrenaline and fear. He was panting, his clothing and hair slightly disheveled, and face bright red. “I—, we weren’t—, It’s not—,”

Jesse sat on his ass where he landed, still stunned. It took a moment to process what just happened, but Jesse soon realized why Jack had done what he’d done. He picked himself up off the floor and walked towards Miles with an irritated look. 

“Don’t you knock?” He crossed his arms, scowling.

Miles gestured around them wildly. “You don’t have a door!”

“What do you want? We were busy?” Jesse grumbled, risking a glance at his terrified boyfriend. Wait, were they boyfriends? They never really talked about, and it bothered Jesse that he didn’t know.

Miles pointed at Jack. “He’s supposed to go talk to Mr. Pulitzer, remember? About the rally?”

Jesse’s eyes went wide. They’d lost track of time, shit. “Um, Miles, can you give us a minute? He’ll be down soon.” Miles sighed, but nodded and left.

As soon as Jesse turned to face Jack his heart broek. He looked so scared. Jesse slowly inched towards him. “Jackie? Are you okay?”

“He saw.” Jack’s voice trembled. “He saw us, Jesse.”

Jesse sat down beside Jack again and reached for his hand, but Jack flinched away, and Jesse could feel his heart shattering. “He wont tell anyone, I promise.”

“Ya don’t know that.” Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“He’s been keeping my secret for—,” Wait, what’s an appropriate number? Fuck, Miles kept this secret for seventy two years, but he couldn’t say that, now could he? “—three years?” Jesse knew he sounded uncertain, but prayed Jack would chalk it up to Jesse’s totally lock of sense of time.

Jack shook his head frantically and scrambled to his feet. “I just—, I need to—, I’m gonna go see Pulitzer.” Jack fled the rooftop before Jesse could stop him. Jesse couldn’t do anything but watch him leave, feeling numb, Jack’s phantom touch lingering on his lips.

Jesse didn’t sleep, he stayed up and waited for Jack’s return, but it never came. Terrified Jack was scared off for good, Jesse couldn’t sleep even if he tried. The sun rose, and he was still alone, so feeling and looking like hell, Jesse trudged to the rally alone.

Miles was there, and immediately fell into line beside Jesse, arms crossed disapprovingly. Davey was there with Medda, seemingly trying to keep all the different newsies organized. Jesse locked eyes with the one and only Spot Colons across the theater, and he gave Jesse a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

“Brooklyn. You’da thunk?” Race barked a laugh as he came to stand beside Jesse.

“I know, right?” Jesse nodded, then gestured to Miles. “Race, this is my brother Miles. Miles, this is my friend Racetrack Higgins.”

“The infamous immortal brother, huh? Nice to meet ya, fella.” Race spit in his hand and offered Miles a handshake.

Miles gave him a disgusted look. “I’m not shaking your hand.” Race shrugged and wiped the spit off his hand using Miles’ sleeve. Miles startled and raised his shoulders, mouth falling open in disgust. “Oh my god!”

Jesse pursed his lips together to contain his laughter, but he couldn’t stop the smile from splitting his lips. “Relax Miles, it’s just spit.”

Miles shuddered and attempted to wipe off his sleeve, looking like he just stepped in dog shit, or a bird pooped on his shoulder. “You’re revolting.”

Race barked a laugh and rested his elbow on Jesse’s shoulder, placing a cigar in his mouth, grinning in amusement. “I know.”

Jesse watched Davey cross the theater, spit in his hand, and shake Spot’s, and he knew the rally was starting. “Quiet, it’s starting.”

Medda stepped into the center of the theater ina blue silk robe, clapping and grinning. “Whoo hoo!” She cheered, getting everyone’s attention. “Welcome, newsies of New York city! Welcome to my theater and your revolution!”

The theater erupted into cheers, and Davey stepped forward to shout, “Let's hear it for Spot Colon and Brooklyn!” The cheers elevated.

Spot, egotistical as he was, stepped up to take the spotlight. “Newsies united!” He cheered, arms spread wide as if to say, ‘behold me.’ The claps and cheers turned deafening, and Jesse was right there with them, shouting praises.

Spot closed his fists, and the theater went deadly silent, the sheer command he wielded left JEsse feeling confident about their chances, even if Jack was still nowhere to be seen. “Let’s see what Pulitzer’s gotta say to you now?” He smirked.

“Hey, Davey?” Finch called, frowning. “Wheres Jack?”

The crowds chimed in. “Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!”

Jesse couldn’t help but cheer along. “Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!” But he stopped as Medda stepped towards Davey and muttered something with a regretful look. 

Davey met Jesse’s eyes from across the theater and mouthed, ‘where is he?’

Jesse shrugged cluelessly. ‘I don’t know.’ He mouthed back.

Medda said something to Davey again, and whatever it was must’ve inspired action, because Davey took charge. “Alright, alright! Alright!” He called for silence. He didn’t exactly get the same response Spot did, the theater fell quiet. “Newsies of New York!” He screamed over the dying cheers. 

Davey hesitated, looking almost anxious, but determined. “Look at what we done? We got newsies from every pape, and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight, you’re making history!” He spoke with almost as much passion as Jack. “Tonight we declare that we are as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor! We are done being treated like kids! From now on, they will treat us as equals!”

“You wanna be talked to like an adult? Start acting like one.” Jack spoke harshly as he stepped onto the stage beside Davey. 

Jesse immediately know something was wrong. His posture, his expression, he was tense, and his tone was off. As the rest of the theater cheers for his presence, Jesse felt a pit forming in his stomach. “Oh no.”

“Don’t just run your mouth, make some sense.” Jack muttered, pushing past Davey.

“And here’s Jack!” Davey grinned cluelessly.

“Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!” The crowd cheered.

Jesse recoiled from the noise. It was wrong. This was wrong. Somehow everything about this felt wrong. He and Jack made eye contact for barely a moment, and whatever emotion was in Jack’s eyes, Jesse didn’t recognize it, but he certainly didn’t like it.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Jack yelled for silence, scowling deeply. The crowd fell into an almost nervous, scared silent, and the rest of the theater seemed to realise what Jesse had; Something was wrong.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, looking stressed and in pain. “Pulitzer…” He started, voice low and dangerous. “...Raised the price of papes without even a word to us, and that was a loosey thing to do.” He stated, glancing to Davey, then Medda, then seemingly avoid Jesse’s gaze.

Jesse moved to go to Jack, but Miles grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Somethings wrong.” Miles muttered, eyes narrowed at Jack suspiciously.

“Cause we got mad.” Jack continued, all the passion was gone from his voice, and he just sounded defeated. Jesse hated it. “And we showed ‘em, we ain’t gonna be pushed around! So we go on strike!” Jack’s voice grew angrier, but not a Pulitzer, no, Jack sounded angry at himself.

Jesse took another step backwards. “Race, This isn’t—,” He cut himself off, glancing to Racetrack, who was crossing his arms. He too seemed to have caught on.

“And then what happens? Well Pulitzer lowers the price of papes, so’s we’ll go back to work!” Jack declared, and the crowd cheered their agreement, clapping, but Jack raised one hand, asking them to wait. “And then a few weeks after that… he hikes up his price again, and don’t think he wont. So what do we do then?” He asked, shoulders slumping and a look of pure helplessness crossing his face.

“Jack—,” Jesse moved towards him, but Race and Miles held him in place.

“And what do we do when he decides to raise his price again, after that? Fellas! We gotta be realistic here!” He said pleadingly, and god, it started taking a turn for the worst. “If we don’t work, we don’t get paid!” He turned to Davey, almost accusingly. “How many days can you go without makin’ money? Huh? Believe me, however long, Pulitzer can go longer.”

Mutters of disapproval and rejection spread through the theater, clearly not in favor of Jack’s speech. Jesse glanced around the theater at his fellow newsies, watching them turn on Jack. Then, in the balconies, Jesse saw him. Snider.

“Oh god, please, no.” Jesse muttered, glancing desperately between Jack and Snider.

“But I have spoke with Mr. Pulitzer!” Jack continued, “And he has given me his word. If we disband the union—,” The crowd erupted in cries of outrage, and Jack had to scream over them. “—He will not raise prices again for two years! He will even put that in writing! Now I say we take the deal, and get back to work knowing our price is secure!” Jesse could barely even hear Jack anymore, over the discourse rippling through the theater and his own pounding heartbeat in his ears.

“All you gotta do is vote ‘no!’” Jack declared as the crowd circled in on him, all arguing their points over each other, and none of them getting anywhere.

Jesse spotted Medda purse he lips, duck her head sadly, then walk away in silence.

Someone shoved Jack, and he went flying backwards. A spike on panic shot through Jesse, knowing he was about to get soaked if someone didn’t step in, Jack could be seriously hurt! He shook Race and Miles off of him and ran towards Jack.

“Jack!” He shouted as he grabbed Jack’s arm just in time to see Snider shove a thick wad of cash against his chest, nod at him, and walk away.

“He’s a sell out!” Someone shouted, and Jack turned to hit them with his money, but froze when he saw he was about to hit Jesse. Their eyes met and neither said anything. There was nothing to say. Jack betrayed them all.

The crowds scattered, knowing if Snider was here, the police likely were too. They shouted obscenities at Jack as they left, and Jesse didn’t want to go, but Miles grabbed him by the sleeve and forcefully pulled him from the theater.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” Miles practically ordered. “You’re not sleeping on the roof with him.” 

Jesse didn’t protest, he only nodded mutely. He didn’t really want to be near Jack at the moment anyway, not after that. He felt numb and heart broken as Miles pulled him down the street, dragging his feet.

Miles turned to his suddenly and grabbed both his shoulders, forcing Jesse to look at him. He gave Jesse and almost concerned, sympathetic look. “I know you loved him, and I don’t really agree with your infinity to date mortals, but I know you’re hurting, and I’m here for you, okay?”

Jesse mutely wrapped both arms around Miles, quite desperately needing a hug. Miles hugged back silently. Jesse sniffled into Miles’ shirt. “I—, I need to get my stuff from the rooftop.”

“I’ll go with you.” Miles offered.

“No, no!” Jesse shook his head and pulled back from the hug. “I need a little time alone.”

Miles nodded and sighed. “Okay, you know where to find me, try not to take too long. I’ll buy us some dinner.”

Jesse nodded along, then hugged himself around the middle and started to walk away, but he paused, then turned back to Miles. “Can I leave with you tomorrow? I don’t want to be in New York anymore.” Truthfully, his reason for staying had betrayed him, so what was the point?

Miles pursed his lips. “You know how dangerous it is to stay near each other for long periods of time.”

Jesse shrugged. “I know that, but it wouldn’t be for long. Cheaper to travel together, right?”

Miles caved, shoving both hands into his pockets. “I’ll give mom a call, maybe we can all get together soon.”

“Thank you.” Jesse turned back and walked towards what he used to call home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to comment, they keep me writing. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here; more angst.

The roof was empty when Jesse got there. Silently, he packed his things in his pillow case, then tied a knot to keep it all him. He risked a glance across the roof and spotted Jack’s stuff. The temptation was too much, and he crossed the roof. He sunk to his knees in front of Jack’s stuff and carefully picked the up pillow, hugged it to his chest, and smelled it, breathing in Jack’s scent and eyes tearing up.

He had so many questions, but most of them boiled down to ‘why?’ That's all he could possible ask, but he just couldn’t muster the courage to face Jack. He set the pillow down and plucked the drawings from under it. The top one was a drawing of Jesse grinning genuinely. Jesse carefully folded the drawing and took it with him, unwilling to give up Jack entirely. The rest of the drawings were of other newsies, or locations, for example the refuge. 

As he turned to leave he came face to face with Jack. “What’re you doing?” Jack asked, his voice harsh. “I didn’t say you could go through those.” He sntached the drawing from Jesse’s hand, and Jesse flinched away from him. When Jack saw him flinch, he fell short, giving Jesse a sorrowful, mourning look. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t get it, Jack.” He managed to say, voice wavering. “You’ve done so much for the newsies, you started the strike, you gave up your own wages for others to eat, you stole clothes and food for them, you went to jail for them, and I just don’t get it.” 

Jack hung his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

Anger flared through him, and Jesse growled, eyes narrowed. “Crutchie. You call me Crutchie.”

The look of hurt that crossed Jack’s face almost made him want to take it back, but he didn’t. Jack deserved it after everything he did. When Jack didn’t say anything, Jesse continued. “That was some speech you made, I just don’t understand why you made it. You were willing to die for those boys yesterday, what the hell happened?!”

Jack tensed. “I couldn’t put you in danger.”

Jesse fumed with frustration. “This again?! Jack! We already had this conversation!” He shoved Jack’s chest. “We got stomped on by Pulitzer, we know! But we’re all okay, all the newsies are okay, and we’re still fighting! Why can’t you keep fighting! The rest of the newsies are fighting!” Jesse shoved him again.

Jack grabbed Jesse’s wrist, stopping him from shoving him again. “It’s not about the rest of the newsies!” Jack screamed back, tightening his grip on Jesse.

Jesse went deathly still, staring at Jack, and making no attempt to escape his grip. “...Then what was it about Jack? Money? Santa fe?” He spat venomously.

“You.” Jack admitted defeatedly, voice turing soft and pained, barely above a whisper. His grip loosened considerably. “It was about you.”

Jesse faltered, his anger subsiding. “I don’t understand.” He whispered back.

“I meant what I said at the refuge.” Jack let go of Jesse’s wrist and instead cupped his face tenderly, cherishing him. “I love you, and I wanted to protect you. Pulitzer threatened to—, He threatened to hurt you, to—, to put you back in the refuge.” A choked sob escaped Jack’s throat and tears welled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t lose you, Crutchie.”

Jesse placed his hands over Jack’s gently, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “Jesse.” He corrected. “You can call me Jesse, I’m sorry I said not to, and I meant what I said too, Jack. You are never going to lose me.”

“Haven’t I, though?” Jack pulled away from him, turning to lean on the railing, back facing Jesse.

“Jackie, I need you to hear me when I say this.” Jesse placed gentle hand on Jack’s back. “You don’t ever need to protect me, because—, well, because I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Jack glanced to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jesse sighed and fidgeted with the bottom of his sleeve, evading Jack’s gaze. “...I’m immortal.”

“Now isn’t a good time for jokes.” Jack glared at him, unamused.

Jesse pursed his lips. “I’m being completely serious.” Jack rolled his eyes, and Jesse made a displeased noise. “Fine, I’ll prove it.” He walked to the edge of the roof, that caught Jack’s attention.

“What’re you doing? Get away from there.” Jack ordered, moving to follow him.

Jesse turned to Jack, gave him a challenging look, then stepped off the roof, He fell four stories, listening to Jack scream his name as he fell. He landed on the concrete with an “Oof!” It hurt his back, but nothing broke. As he picked himself up off the ground, he glanced up to see JAck leaning over the edge, eyes wide with horror. 

Jesse gestured to himself up and down, as if to say, ‘See?’ 

Jesse climbed the fire escape, rubbing at his back. He knew it wouldn’t bruise, but it still ached. As soon as he was back on the roof Jack grabbed him roughly. Feeling him up and down for broken bones, blood, or bruises.

“Are you okay?! How bad is it?” Jack pressed a frantic hand to Jesse’s chest, searching for wounds. Jesse caught his hand and held it there, right over his heartbeat.

“Jack. I’m one hundred and eight. I literally can’t die or be injured. I can’t even get sick. You don’t have to protect me, ever, okay?” With his free hand Jesse stroked Jack’s cheek. “I’m fine.”

“So—, so I just—, so I just betrayed everyone for no reason?” Jack stammered, the horror in his eyes side very visible.

“We’ll fix it, I forgive you.” Jesse held his hand tentatively. “Just please don’t pull anything like that again, okay? If anyone should be protecting anyone, it should be me.”

We’ll protect each other.” Jack insisted. “Like partners.

“In crime?” Jesse asked, eyes lighting up at the thought.

“Yeah, partners in crime.” Jack nodded along, a small smile reaching his lips.

“Kiss me.” Jesse exhaled, and Jack wasted no time pressing their lips together. Jack placed both hands on Jesse’s hips, and Jesse tangled his hands in Jack’s hair, knocking his hat off by mistake. Jack didn’t seem to mind, slipping his tongue past Jesse’s lips.

Jesse’s heart fluttered, and he groaned into the kiss. The noise seems to encourage Jack, because his hands trailed lower, gripping at Jesse’s thighs. Jack pressed him against the railing, pinning him there. Jesse wasn’t complaining. He moved on hand from Jack’s hair to his neck, tracing his jawline.

Jack pulled back first, panting, cheeks flushed and lips kiss swollen. His hair was a mess. “I love you.” He exhaled like a prayer. “I love you.” He repeated, burying his face in the crook of Jesse’s neck.

“Jack?!” A familiar voice shouted from below. It was KAtherine, the boys seperated and straighten themselves out before she reached the top. Jack was settling his hat back on his head as she came into view.

“Hey boys.” She greeted with a grin, holding a paper in one hand. “Jack, I know my dad kind of forced you into this situation, and I’m sorry, so I’m here to help!”

Jack rolled his eyes at her then glanced to Jesse. “She’s Pulitzer’s daughter.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“She stabbed us all in the back to her father!” Jack huffed, narrowing his eyes at her.

Katherine pursed her lips. “Uh, my father has eyes all over this city. He doesn't need me spying for him. Besides, I never lied, I just… didn’t tell you everything.” She shrugged it off, then held out her paper. “I’ve got a plan.”

Jack scoffed bitterly, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Katherine.”

“Oh what? Only you can have a good idea Jack? Or is it because I’m a girl?” Katherine quirked an eyebrow at him, challenging him.

“I never said—,” 

Katherine cut him off. “Now would be a good time to shut up!” 

Jesse nudged Jack. “You should probably just be quiet, Jackie.”

Katherine nodded and held out ehr paper to them again. “Being boss doesn’t mean you’ve got all the right ideas, it just means you’re smart enough to recognize the right one when you hear it. The strike was your idea, the rally was Davey’s, and mine will take us to the finish line! Deal with it!”

Jesse took the paper form ehr hands. “The children’s crusade?” He read aloud. “Jackie…Katherine is right. This is perfect.”

Katherine flipped her hand, a smug look on her face. “Thanks Crutchie.”

Jesse shot her a grin. She wasn’t nearly as bad as he originally thought, he nudged her in a friendly manner. “You can call me Jesse, if you want.” 

She beamed, then turned to Jack. “So what do you say Kelly?”

Jack took the paper from Jesse and scanned over the words. A mischievous smile split his lips. “...I think I might have a few drawings that could help with this.”

Katherine squealed excitedly. “Yes! Good idea! We just need a printing press!”

“Pulitzer controls every printing press in the city, how on earth are we going to find one we can use?” Jesse gave her skeptic look.

Jack got a look on his face of pure disbelief. “Oh, oh god.” He barked a laugh. “I know where there's a printing press Pulitzer would never think we’d use! Get all the newsies to meet us tomorrow at dawn in Newsie square, and we’ll finish this thing.”

Jesse gasped loudly, one hand shooting up to his mouth. “Miles! I forgot about Miles! Shit!” He ran to the other end of the roof and grabbed his stuff. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help with the plan, but right now I gotta go find my brother. Bye Jackie! By Katherine!”

“Wait, Jesse!” Jack exclaimed, running to stop him. He grabbed Jesse’s arm and held something out to him. It was the drawing Jesse had been intending to steal. “This belongs to you.”

Jesse blushed and gratefully accepted it. “Thank you, Jackie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated.
> 
> No beta reader, we die like men.


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